All My Life
by coolyourbutt
Summary: Romano has never had many friends. So when he, Italy, and Germany unexpectedly run into Spain, he doesn't know what to make of it, or even how a relationship is supposed to work! Spamano, rated T for language and maybe some sexual themes later on.
1. Close Encounters

**Chapter one, yee! I'm really excited, I'm actually writing something other than a oneshot! So, sorry if it goes a little roughly at first, since I'm so new!**

**This story is basically canon with the Hetalia universe (which is not mine, sadly), except for one major thing; Spain DID NOT raise Romano as a kid. They've never interacted much before this point. Ok, enjoy!**

**Close Encounters**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

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><p><em>You'd think he'd never been to a freaking beach before,<em> Romano thought sourly as he watched his brother playing.

Italy was currently running across the sand, chasing seagulls, flapping his arms, and laughing the whole time. After a few minutes, he tripped and landed face first on the beach. Romano couldn't help but snort with laughter as his dopey little brother got up and brushed the white sand off his chin. Then he settled back on his beach towel and closed his eyes, trying to get in a little nap while Italy was otherwise occupied.

They were on a beautiful beach in southern Spain, enjoying some time off, away from their own country. This beach, something of a local secret rather than a tourist spot, was barely occupied and the sun was beating down strongly. It was the perfect place and time for a man to take a well-deserved _siesta_, or so Romano thought.

"Italy, are you ok?" the blond-haired ape by his side called, ruining the peace and quiet and forcing Romano's eyes back open to glare at him. Then he rolled his eyes as Italy waved back an affirmative response. _Why am _I_ stuck with the potato-bastard? He's Feliciano's stupid boyfriend! Ah well, might as well have some fun with him since he's here…_he grinned to himself mischievously at the thought.

"Ya know, I'll never understand _what_ you see in him. Is he good in bed or something?" Romano said in his most casual voice, though inside he was laughing uncontrollably. No one was supposed to know about their 'secret' little relationship, but Romano had known right along. He wasn't stupid, no matter what that conceited German thought.

Germany's cheeks flared red. "W-what do you mean?" he stuttered nervously.

"Come _on,_" Romano continued, savoring the moment. "He's my baby brother, don't think I don't _know_ what he's up to when he sneaks out of the house every other goddam night." How he loved the look of embarrassment and consternation on the bastard's face.

Luckily for Germany, he was saved from having to respond by Italy, who showed up at that moment and began tugging on his arm. "Vee~ let's go swimming, Germany!" Germany hesitated for a second, but then glanced at Romano and apparently decided he'd rather not stay with the grumpy nation.

"Yeah, sure," he said, following Italy down to the water. As they left, Romano intended to go back to trying to sleep, but found his eyes opening again after only a few seconds. He couldn't help but watch the pair approach the surf.

Just before their feet touched the water, Italy seemed to ask Germany something, to which the larger nation immediately shook his head. Italy was persistent; but so was Germany. They argued for a moment before Italy, laughing, grabbed the edge of Germany's T-shirt, which he hadn't taken off since they got to the beach, and began to pull up on it.

Germany continued to resist for a few seconds, but eventually conceded, and let Italy pull off the black material. It really _didn't_ look like it was the first time Italy had undressed the blue-eyed man, Romano noted bitterly. He also couldn't help but notice how Italy's fingers trailed across Germany's finely-sculpted chest and shoulders as he passed him on his way back up the beach to place Germany's carefully, _lovingly,_ folded shirt out of the reach of the waves.

_It's disgusting,_ he sneered, closing his eyes firmly again. _I can't watch this._

He counted to thirty before he couldn't help but look again. The two were now wading in the shallow, warm water. Italy splashed Germany and a quick chase ensued, until both countries were thoroughly soaked in saltwater. Italy caught up to Germany and grabbed hold of both his hands, swinging their arms back and forth for a minute while he said something. Then he pushed his face closer to Germany's…_way_ closer…

"Shit," Romano muttered under his breath, furious. But Germany jerked his head back just before their lips met. He seemed to be looking back at the beach, towards Romano, who smirked. _Yeah that's right, you jerk, you'd better not kiss my brother right in front-_ his thoughts were cut short as Germany defiantly turned around and kissed Italy on the mouth, slowly, deliberately, and seemingly to the surprise of both Italian brothers.

_That little potato eating bastard! He'll pay for this, someday!_ Romano clenched his fists, wishing they were around Germany's throat, though in his heart he knew he'd never be able to muster the courage to attack such a powerful nation, let alone his brother's lover. But it just made him so _mad_ to see them together, having fun, laughing.

He hated to admit it, but he was kind of jealous of Germany. Italy was always saying nice things about the man; he looked up to him, respected him, and admired him. He'd never done _any_ of those things with regard to his big brother. Not only that, but Germany just made Italy so _happy_, something Romano had never really understood. How could a single person create so much joy in the life of another? But mostly, he was jealous of the two for having such a simple relationship, where it was so easy to see that they loved each other. Even if it _did_ make him want to gag.

Not that he needed someone like that in _his_ life; no, not even close. But it might be nice to have…a friend. It wasn't a concept he was very familiar with, but it might be worth a try. That is, if he could find a single person he could stand to be around, and so far he was out of luck. He hated pretty much everybody.

He rolled onto his side, adjusted the umbrella sticking in the sand so that he got prime protection from the hot Spanish sun, and closed his eyes to try and sleep for the third time. This time he truly was sick of watching the lovebirds, so he managed to doze for a few minutes before he was awoken by a drop of cool water landing on his cheek.

He sat upright, surprised, and found Italy leaning over him. It seemed the offending drop of water had fallen from the end of Italy's single strand of hair that perpetually curled away from the rest of his head, a phenomenon repeated in Romano's dark locks. Germany stood a few feet away, drying off and putting his shirt back on, clearly avoiding Romano's eyes for the time being.

"What do you want?" he asked irritably, annoyed at having been awoken in such an abrupt manner.

"Wanna build a sandcastle with us!" Italy burst out with barely contained enthusiasm, like building sandcastles was the epitome of excitement.

Romano just stared at his little brother, distaste written all over his face. "No," he answered shortly, and lay back down, pretending to sleep again until Italy and his companion were gone. Then he sat up and looked around to find them, somewhat curious despite himself. They had moved down to the firmer, damp sand closer to the gently lapping waves, and were kneeling down and digging a moat to surround their soon-to-be castle.

There was something greatly amusing about big, tough Germany building a sandcastle, and Romano had just gotten his phone out to take a picture (for future blackmail opportunities) when he was interrupted by a cheerful voice behind him.

"_Hola, amigo,_ is this spot taken?"

Romano turned around to find a lone young man pointing to the patch of clear sand on his left. _Really? There's hardly anyone on this beach, why does he have to pick the one spot so close to me? _Romano was about to lie and tell the man that it _was_ indeed being used by somebody when he realized that he actually knew the guy.

"Spain?"

"Hm?" The vaguely smiling brunette looked a little confused for a moment. Then he continued with a lowered voice, "How did you know I was a nation?"

Romano gave him a blank look for several seconds before Spain's eyes widened with recognition. "Italy Romano! Is that really you? _Lo siento,_ I didn't recognize you in your bathing suit!" he laughed in a surprised, carefree manner that really rubbed Romano the wrong way. _Annoying bastard…_

Spain spread his blanket out rather closer to Romano's towel than he would have liked and made himself comfortable, pulling a drink out of a small cooler and chatting about the weather and other such inconsequential things, most of which Romano didn't bother to listen to.

_What is with this guy?_ he wondered mildly as he stared with a mixture of dislike and wonder at the newcomer, who was still talking, oblivious to the wandering mind of his audience. Romano had never really talked to Spain much before. He only recognized him from seeing him at World Meetings. It wasn't exactly a surprise to see him here; they were _in_ Spain, after all. But still, he hadn't considered that they could run in to each other like this. It was obnoxious, really. He'd been hoping to spend the afternoon quietly, and alone, but that particular plan was now ruined.

Spain continued talking for half an hour without a single break, not requiring any more than a nod or single word every now and then from Romano. Romano was admittedly impressed with how well the Spaniard could hold a conversation by himself. He didn't even seem to notice, or care, that Romano wasn't listening.

Romano was actually glad, for the first time in a long time, when his brother and Germany returned. Spain and Italy greeted each other like they were old friends, though in truth they barely knew one another, while Germany introduced himself more formally, as usual.

Italy sat down quite casually on Spain's beach blanket and helped himself when offered a drink. Romano sneered and rolled his eyes; his brother was always so familiar with people he didn't know, it was irritating.

Looking at Italy, Spain said, "So, Italy Romano was ju-"

"It's just Romano," Romano interrupted shortly. "And _he_ goes by Italy."

"Ah yes, I forgot, you told me that," Spain replied chirpily, tapping his forehead lightly as if to berate himself for forgetting, an annoying and tasteless gesture in Romano's opinion. "Anyway, Romano was just telling me that you guys were going to be here for a few days." He smiled around at the three other nations. "It would give me great pleasure if you would stay at my house and allow me to show you around Spain as only _I_ can."

"Really? We'd love to!" Italy gasped, bouncing up and down with excitement. Then he and Spain laughed, like they were sharing some great private joke, while Romano had to fight the urge to shake his head in distress. "Right, guys?"

Germany nodded and said politely, "Of course. Thank you so much, Spain."

Now all three other men stared at Romano expectantly. "Sure…" he finally muttered, knowing that he couldn't say no in this situation and hating it.

"¡_Fantástico_! This will be so much fun!" He and Italy continued laughing and making various excited noises as they planned Romano's vacation away. He groaned; this was not going the way he wanted.

The afternoon seemed to pass rather quickly after that. The unlikely group chatted, drank a few beers, and, much to Romano's dismay, got to know each other a little better. He could only watch with that uncomfortable feeling of jealousy again as Italy and Spain warmed up even more than before, until they were talking and laughing like…like brothers.

_I really hate this Spain guy,_ he thought with gritted teeth at each new idiotic development between the two. Currently, for example, they were exchanging phone numbers.

"Hey, Romano," Spain said, when they were done, grinning. "Lemme see your cell, I'll put myself as a contact."

"No."

"Eh? Why not?" Spain pouted.

"You're already in Italy's, I don't see why you need to…" he muttered, looking somewhere off to his right.

Spain heaved an overdramatic sigh, but his disappointed look was soon replaced with his customary smile. "You guys wanna head home? It's getting kinda late."

"Yeah, I'd like to see your house!" Italy replied. They all pitched in and packed up their gear in a few minutes. As they approached the parking lot, Spain called the hotel where the three travelers had been going to stay the night and had their luggage brought to his house. Of course, while he was busy on his phone, Romano had to carry his share of the beach stuff. Romano flipped the Spaniard off as well as he could with both hands full.

Spain's car had plenty of room for them and their gear, and in what seemed like no time they were pulling up outside of an old Spanish villa, like one you'd see in the movies. It had white walls, archways, and flowers and plants climbing on or spilling over every surface. Romano would have bet money there was a beautiful swimming pool behind it as well. In a word, it was perfect.

_Too perfect._

Romano took an immediate disliking to it. It was beautiful, he couldn't deny it, but there was something about it that irritated him. For once, though, he couldn't quite place what it was. Which made him even _more_ annoyed, but with himself this time, as they were shown around the house and to their rooms.

Italy and Germany's rooms were both huge and gorgeous, of course. He snorted with cynical laughter as he wondered why Spain bothered giving them separate rooms. _He_ knew where Italy would end up sleeping tonight, and it made him somewhat relieved to know that his bedroom was down at the other end of the hall from Germany's.

"You can stay here, Romano. I hope you'll like it. I'll get us all something to eat, ok? The dining room's down the hall and on the left." Spain smiled and didn't wait for Romano's response before leaving, which was probably a good thing. Romano wasn't thinking particularly kind words at the moment. He turned around slowly, taking a deep breath and enjoying the first moment he'd had to himself all day.

His luggage from the hotel was already in the room. There were some definite perks to being a nation; everybody did what you asked them to, quickly and generally without even a question. He checked out the bathroom quickly, and found it pristine like the rest of the house, of course. He rolled his eyes, but it wasn't quite with the same contempt that he would have if the others had been there. Being alone just made him feel so much better.

After a couple minutes spent collecting himself, he decided to go to dinner, eat, and then return to his room as soon as possible.

His plan actually went almost exactly as he'd hoped, for once. Dinner was short, and pretty good, he admitted to himself begrudgingly. But the important thing was that afterwards, no one asked him to stay, so he slowly backed out of the room, hardly daring to believe it. _Will they try to stop me…?_

Italy was telling some bizarre story, as usual, "-and then he opened the box, and it was like love at first sight!" _So much for that 'secret' relationship, Feli._

Spain laughed, and Germany looked painfully embarrassed, but nobody said anything as Romano sneaked around the corner. _Yes! Home free!_

He nearly skipped down the hallway, until he looked around and remembered where he was. _Right, Spain's house…_and he sulked the whole way to his room, depressed again as he recalled that he'd be spending a week there.

Still, once he entered the peace of his dark room, he felt the constant knot in his stomach loosen slightly. There was a balcony off of his room. Curious, he walked out to see the view of the back garden. He smirked when he saw the swimming pool. _I knew it!_

But looking beyond that, the Spanish garden seen by moonlight really was beautiful. There were several layers of terracing going down far behind the house, done in subtly colored red and gray stones. A lot of the flowering and smaller plants were in pots or incorporated into the architecture. Despite this, there was a sense of natural growth among many of the vines and bushes, making the garden look more organic than the front of the house. Romano took a deep breath and felt himself calm down just a notch. It wasn't so bad out here.

Bored, but not yet ready to go to bed, he pulled out his phone to see if he had any texts. He didn't. As usual. He didn't have a lot of friends, to put it mildly. He considered texting Italy something to harass him, and was just looking through his contacts when his gaze alighted on an unfamiliar name.

_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?_

He looked at the tiny picture that accompanied the name. He stared for several seconds in disbelief, before fuming and spluttering incoherently. _When did the bastard steal my phone!_ The picture was clearly taken at the beach earlier that day. Spain's sheepishly grinning countenance stared at him through the small screen. Apparently he had known that Romano would be angry, even when he took the picture.

_I'll just delete him! _But he hesitated before he could do it. What if he needed to call him sometime while he was staying here?

He sighed, unhappy with the decision, but left Spain's name, his human name, as the first contact on his rather short list. This 'vacation' was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

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><p><strong>Hope you all liked it, and are ready for more! I'm not sure when I'll be updating it, but ideally it will be in a week or two.<strong>

**By the way, I don't know anything about Spain other than hearsay and some bits and pieces from Spanish class, so if anyone has any corrections, suggestions, etc. that knows it firsthand, I would love the help!**


	2. The Fruits of Spain

**Here we go, I hope you like chapter two! I'm glad I managed to do it in a week. I think a chapter a week is what you should expect, since I always post on weekends anyways.**

**Special thanks to theticktalks, who helps me a lot, and a shout out to Lycoris1305, simply because I love her! xD (They're both at AnimeBoston right now, while I'm at home! *jealous*) Um, I don't own Hetalia, and that's all, so let's go!**

**The Fruits of Spain**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

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><p>"Wake up, sleepy head," a voice called gently. "Romano, it's time to get up!"<p>

Romano slowly opened his eyes to find sunlight streaming through the windows, gleaming on every surface in the room. It made the chamber look bright, cheerful, and airy; not that Romano particularly noticed. Instead, he looked around bleary-eyed, trying to find the source of the voice calling his name.

Again, someone spoke to him. "Come on, Romano, wake up, now." A hand touched his shoulder very lightly.

_Aha._ The voice and hand had definitely come from his right; he rolled over in bed and saw he was not alone under the covers. A brown-haired head rested on the pillow next to his. "_Italy,_" he muttered darkly. His brother was known for ending up in other people's beds.

A simple, but gratifying, plan formed in his mind, and he grinned. He grabbed the pillow from behind him and, as quickly as he could, swung his lower body over the other man's, straddling him in order to hold him down while he swung the pillow at his head. Experience had taught him that a few good whacks could go a long way in teaching that idiot to _stay out of his room…._

But the surprised face staring back up at his was not Italy's.

"Why, Romano," Spain purred playfully. "This is so sudden!" The two stared at each other for exactly three more seconds before fury consumed Romano.

"What the hell are you doing in my room!" He yelled, quickly jumping back off the Spaniard and hitting him with the pillow anyways, for good measure. Spain's only response at first was to laugh and hold his arms up to fend off oncoming attacks, but Romano didn't find anything remotely funny about the situation.

"I only wanted to wake you up and have a little joke, I wasn't expecting all that!" Spain continued a moment later, smiling and laughing. Romano felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. _He's laughing at _me, _the bastard!_

"Just leave!" Romano shouted, frustrated with himself and his exasperating host. Spain rolled out of bed and ran, almost skipping, out of the room, giving a good natured wave before shutting the door behind him. The assault-pillow thumped against the door immediately after it closed, missing Spain by less than a second.

Romano swore violently under his breath as he got up and locked the door securely before attending to his morning routine a bit more aggressively than was necessary.

It was their second morning in the Spanish villa, though yesterday he hadn't been so rudely awoken. In fact, yesterday had been bordering on pleasant, compared with this morning so far. They hadn't been able to go on any excursions around the country because Germany, the poor fair-skinned little cherub (if you listened to Italy), had been badly sunburned at the beach the day before and wasn't up to it.

Nope, instead they'd spent the day in the villa, poolside for the most part, Romano gagging as Italy fawned over his boyfriend in his 'injured' state. You'd think he was on his deathbed, from the way his baby brother went on about it. And of course, rather than being embarrassed or upset that Romano, and even Spain, knew about his previously secret love, Italy had been incredibly excited to bring his relationship out into the open. Much more excited than Germany had been.

A_t least Germany's reaction to this whole thing is amusing…_Romano had thought dully at the time, looking for anything to divert himself. He'd been bored out of his wits yesterday; Germany growing angrier with every public display of affection had been the only mildly entertaining thing that happened all day. But at least Romano hadn't been nearly _molested_ first thing in the morning yesterday. That he definitely could have done without.

"Stupid Spain, who does he think he is, anyway?" he mumbled around his toothbrush as wandered back into the bedroom from the bathroom to see what time it was. 7:30? What! Why was Spain getting him up now? Yesterday he'd slept until after 10:00 and it wasn't a problem!

He quickly finished brushing his teeth and went to storm out of his room to yell at Spain some more for waking him up. _Who the hell gave him the authority to get me up anyways?_ he thought moodily as he yanked his door open and stomped into the hallway. At least, that's what was _supposed_ to happen.

Of course, he had forgotten that he'd locked the door only moments before, and, instead of it swinging open at his touch, he slammed into, not only banging his forehead but also ramming his hip painfully into the doorknob.

_I frigging hate this place!_ he screamed internally as his eyes watered up with pain. He unlocked the door, cursing the little _click_ the mechanism made for all he was worth, and entered the hall in a true rage. "Spaaaain!" he shouted loudly, feeling his voice crack towards the end of the drawn out syllable and not caring.

Spain peeked his head around the corner, shooting Romano an innocent smile. "I told you, you can call me Antonio!"

"I am _not_ going to call you Antonio!" Romano spat out with irritation. It was only about the eight hundredth time since yesterday morning that they'd had this conversation. He had to get back to the matter at hand. "What I want to know is why the hell you woke me up at 7:30 in the freaking morning!"

Spain tilted his head to one side, looking slightly puzzled. "I'm taking you all to Madrid today, no_? _We need to get going, take advantage of the day!" He grinned suddenly and ran off again, shouting one last sing-songy message over his shoulder, "And I'm planning an awesome day, so you don't want to miss it!"

Romano groaned, feeling slightly distressed. Anything being planned by _that_ guy couldn't be good.

…

Spain actually did make good on his promise of showing them a good time in Madrid. They hit several of the popular tourist spots, like la Plaza Mayor, el Palacio Real, and la Plaza Puerta del Sol. However, they didn't need to take any tours or read the little pamphlets on the history of the places, because Spain readily gave them all the information they could ever want. In fact, more than Romano wanted. Still, it was a pleasant sunny day, with just enough of a breeze to keep them from getting too hot, and it was hard for even Romano to stay in a bad mood for long.

As they walked around the city, Spain also pointed out some lesser known attractions; favorite local stores, restaurants, and bits of beautiful but unobtrusive architecture that would have otherwise escaped their eye.

Italy was really getting into the spirit of things, and his excitement also seemed to rub off on Germany. He went so far as to let Italy hold his hand as they walked through el Mercado de San Miguel.

Romano, meanwhile, was trying his best to ignore them and not let them ruin his day, but wasn't really succeeding. And he never would if Spain had anything to do with it.

"They're cute together, no?" Spain asked as he suddenly popped up at Romano's elbow.

Romano had been watching them, but he would never admit it, so he quickly averted his gaze and growled, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Spain seemed to not hear him, or maybe he just ignored him. "You must be glad that Italy has found someone who cares about him so much."

Romano dropped all pretenses and responded angrily, "Why should I be happy that damn potato-bastard is monopolizing my baby brother! That he's…_infected_ him with his..._German-ness!"_ He didn't care that he sounded like a whiney brat; it just felt good to say the words aloud for the first time ever.

Spain looked as though he was listening, but he didn't say anything. Romano felt like it was alright for him to continue. "It's not like we were ever that close, even as kids, but it's just weird that he spends all his time with Germany, you know? We're family, why doesn't he ever have a kind word to say about _me_?" Romano felt his lips involuntarily pout a little, and he crossed his arms across his chest in irritation at the habit.

"Are you jealous of Germany?"

"I…" he paused, and suddenly realized how much he'd revealed; and to _Spain_ of all people! His face began to burn and he said quickly, "No, of course not!" He avoided Spain's gaze, though, and knew that he wasn't being completely honest.

But why should he be? What right does Spain have to know anything about him? Actually, he was disgusted with himself for the small amount that he _had_ shared. _What's wrong with me, why did I start spilling out my pathetic life story to this guy! _

Thankfully, Spain didn't pry any further, and before long they had caught up with the pair of lovers.

"Spaaaain, I'm huuungry!" Italy complained as they approached. Italy clung to Germany's arm and looked as though he might fall over from 'starvation' any second. It was mid-afternoon, and considering how early they'd eaten breakfast, Romano was also beginning to feel the pangs of hunger.

"Please, feed him," Germany also begged. He glanced with a pained expression at his left arm, which looked as though it was beginning to come out of the socket as Italy dragged it down even more.

"Well you're in luck, 'cause I've made lunch plans for us! Come on, it'll take a little while to get there by foot, so let's get moving!" Spain cheerfully led the way down a nearby street, and the other three followed, wondering where they could be going. Maybe one of the cafés or restaurants he'd pointed out earlier in the day?

Apparently not, for Spain was leading them in a different direction than they'd gone before. It was indeed a bit of a walk before they reached what seemed to be their destination; el Parque del Retiro, a beautiful park in Madrid that Romano had heard about and had always secretly wanted to visit.

"Are we eating here?" he asked Spain somewhat skeptically, wondering if there was a restaurant or something within the park. He was pretty hungry at this point, and would be pissed if they had to wait much longer before eating.

"Yep! Come on, follow me!" Spain led the way down several crisscrossing avenues that ran through the park, obviously heading in a specific direction. He kept them all walking at a good pace, so they didn't have much time to appreciate the scenery around them or any of the buildings, fountains, and other manmade additions that enhanced the natural beauty.

Eventually, near the middle of the park, Spain stopped and pointed at a small group of trees. "There!"

"There?" Romano questioned. He looked around, checking to see if he missed anything. Nope. Just a stand of four or five trees in the grass. There was a monument not far away, on the edge of a manmade lake, but it was in the direction opposite of the one Spain was pointing in.

"You got it! Let's go." Spain dragged them over to the trees and pulled off the backpack he'd kept on his shoulders all day. He unzipped it and pulled out a large, checked blanket. He gave it to Germany and Italy to spread on the grass as he sorted through the other contents of his bag; a picnic lunch.

Romano stood off to the side, watching the other three set up. He wore a slight scowl on his face. Was he supposed to sit on the _ground_ to eat? They were in goddamned Madrid, not at the beach or something, so why should he sit in the freaking _dirt? _

_Spain's just doing this to aggravate me,_ he thought angrily. _And it's working._

"Romano, you gonna join us?" Spain called from the blanket, where he now sat, serving his homemade food. Romano reluctantly joined, because he was hungry, though he hated every moment of sitting on the ground, on a blanket, out in public. It was unbecoming of a nation. He sat a little distanced from the others, hoping he wouldn't be associated with them by passersby, at least.

"I've made some nice _tapas_ for you guys," Spain said cheerfully. He pulled out the first, a very basic one to start. It was just pieces of bread, sliced from a fresh baguette, with slices of cheese and ham or a Spanish sausage, _chorizo._ It was a little simple for Romano's taste, but it got him ready for the next course, or _tapa, _or whatever the hell it was.

"And now, let's split this _tortilla._" Spain went to digging in his backpack again, and Romano, who wasn't at all familiar with Spanish cuisine, wondered what he meant. _A tortilla? Like, bread?_

To his surprise, it was an omelet. Again, it was simple, made of egg, potato, onion, and some green bell pepper. They all got a good portion of it, and it was a lot more filling than the bread. Then they had some small _empanadas, _which Spain called _empanadillas._ They had a tomato sauce and beef filling, and were pretty tasty, though of course Romano made sure to remain sullen during the whole meal.

After they had all eaten their fill, they lazed around for a while and chatted. Italy was curious about the lake and the monument that was a little ways away. Spain explained that the statue of a man on horseback was of Alfonso XII. Italy wasn't terribly interested in the history though, because when he took a closer look, he saw people in rowboats out on the water.

"You can rent one, if you want," Spain said with a shrug, when Italy asked about them.

Italy gasped and turned excitedly to Germany, tugging on his sleeve. "Ludwig, we can rent one, can't we!"

"I told you," Germany said quietly through gritted teeth with a glance at Spain and Romano. "Call me Germany."

"But you let me call you Ludwig when we-" Germany cut Italy off by clapping his hand over his mouth. Romano sniggered at the blonde's obvious discomfort. He would have to remember to ask Italy to finish that sentence later on.

"Ok, we can go rent a boat." Germany dragged the smaller nation away before he could say anything else to embarrass him.

That left just Romano and Spain together. Spain settled back and, Romano thought, dozed a bit in the sun. He was officially bored now, so he decided to go for a walk. _I mean, I'm in a park, what the hell else am I supposed to do?_

He found that he was drawn, quite by coincidence, to the lake where his brother was now paddling around in a rented rowboat with his boyfriend. He wandered around the edge of the pond for a little while before sitting on the steps below the large memorial. He rested his chin in his hands and glared at some young children for a few minutes for some entertainment, but his gaze kept being drawn back to the two in the boat every few seconds. He could _feel_ his blood pressure increasing at the sight.

After some time sitting alone and feeling sorry for himself, he became aware of a shadow blocking the sun from reaching his back. Turning and squinting up, he recognized Spain's carefree features. He let out a sigh and went back to staring at the little lake, not even acknowledging his host's presence.

"It's a beautiful day to be out there in a boat, don't you think?" Spain asked as he settled down on the stone steps beside Romano. Romano shrugged, trying to keep as neutral as possible. Spain continued down his train of thought. "The weather's perfect, the park's not too busy 'cause it's a weekday, and it's a good day to be with friends!" Spain smiled widely at Romano.

Romano felt the urge to barf up his lunch, but managed to resist and just shrug again.

"But you're still not having a good time, are you?" Spain asked in a soft, knowing tone very unlike his usual joyful voice.

"Uh…" Romano was unsure how to respond to him, for the second time today. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought at first, but then he changed his tune. _No, it's more like what's wrong with _Spain._ How does the bastard keep asking me these questions that are just so…uncomfortable?_ He didn't know, and it made his stomach churn.

"Well, wanna know what I do when I need to cheer up?" Spain unslung the backpack from his shoulders once again, and pulled out a simple brown paper bag. From this he removed a large, red, ripe tomato.

"A tomato?" Romano was surprised into talking aloud.

"Picked it from my garden this morning. Watch." Spain took a knife out of the bag and sliced the tomato evenly in two halves. Then he sprinkled a little salt and pepper on each half and handed one to Romano. "I like them plain, too, but I just felt like a little seasoning today." He grinned. "_¡Salud!*_" he said jokingly, and took a huge bite from his half.

_What! Am I expected to just eat a raw tomato!_ Romano liked tomatoes, of course, in sauces and other dishes and things. But just a plain tomato? That was weird. However, Spain seemed to be enjoying it…

Hesitantly, he raised it to his lips and took a small bite. Immediately his mouth was filled with a clean, fresh taste unlike anything else he'd had before. It was good; no, it was better, it was _amazing._

_What else have I been missing?_ he wondered briefly as his eyes widened at the unexpected delight he took in the tomato, but he didn't want to let Spain know what he was thinking. The man seemed to know too much about him as it was. However, Spain was looking at him questioningly, asking him how it was with his eyes, so he gave another noncommittal answer. "It's alright."

Spain seemed somewhat satisfied with this; at least, he didn't press him for anything more. As soon as he turned away, though, Romano attacked the fruit in his hand, trying to savor the moment but at the same time trying to eat it as fast as he could. He licked the juice from his hand when it was gone, and then wished there was more.

_Well, at least one good thing came out of this trip,_ he thought, catching a drop of juice that was threatening to drip off his lips with his tongue. Then he glanced over at Spain, who had spotted Italy and Germany and was waving at them. He scowled at the sight, and then reminded himself grimly, _but that bastard's still as annoying as hell._

* * *

><p><strong>About the tomato; I don't like tomatoes, I don't eat tomatoes, I know nothing about what they taste like plain and raw! So I took the salt and pepper thing from how my dad likes to eat them (yep, he eats whole raw tomatoes sometimes; he's Italian, haha) so if that's not 'normal' then Spain just inherited a quirky trait from Daddy Walroose, ok? xD<strong>

**I still know nothing about Spain (the place) so I hope I did okay with this! I apologize to all Spaniards if I messed up!**

_*** Salud**_** – Cheers!**


	3. A Midsummer Nightmare

**First off, thanks to all my readers, and especially to those who have favorited, put on alert lists, and left such kind reviews! (I forgot to say this last chapter, but I was going to, I SWEAR!) Second…well, Hetalia's still not mine, despite my best efforts. :P**

**This chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, but I hope you guys still enjoy it!**

**A Midsummer Nightmare**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

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><p>The day after their adventures in Madrid was spent exploring some of the Spanish countryside. Romano thought it was a lot more boring than the city, to be honest, and it didn't leave much of an impression on him. They visited some old towers and looked at fields, and…well, that was pretty much all he remembered. Oh, and they tasted some wines at a local winery. That was easily the best part of the whole day.<p>

But now they were back at Spain's house, spending the evening drinking a little (or maybe a lot) and relaxing together in one of the several sitting rooms that could be found in Spain's huge house. To say that Romano was really spending his time with the others would be misleading, however; he was listening and glaring, for the most part, and not joining in with the easy talk the others started up.

Despite the fact that he wasn't interacting much with his companions, Romano still wasn't having a _bad_ time that night. The drink helped loosen him up and relax him a lot. Even Germany, who was known to be one who could hold his alcohol, was a little red in the face and acting just a touch off. In fact, Romano actually laughed at one or two comments during conversation, indicating he was in a downright friendly mood.

This general good disposition could only last so long, however. At some point as the night grew older, Italy slid onto Germany's lap. With the blue-eyed nation behaving as he was, he didn't resist, but actually put his arms around Italy and held him closely. This sent Romano into a cloud of discontentment that no amount of alcohol could dissipate.

After a few minutes spent grinding his teeth, he couldn't stand being in the same room with them anymore, so he made his way outside, claiming he needed some fresh air. The others let him go without a second thought.

The night air was cool as Romano stepped outside. He was facing the backyard, and could see the rising moon clearly from his position. He sat down on the steps that led to the pool area and watched the night sky for a while. Spain didn't live near any big cities, so the visibility was better than at Romano's home. It was nice to see the stars for once, and he calmed down considerably as he breathed in the sweet scent of a summer's evening.

There was a clattering noise behind him, and then a voice. "Phew! It was getting a little stuffy in that room, don't you think?" Spain asked, smiling, as he collapsed onto the stairs next to Romano.

Romano rolled his eyes. Spain seemed determined to make this vacation as stressful as possible for him.

Spain stretched out an arm to his right, into the midst of a few healthy green plants. When he withdrew it after a minute, he had two ripe tomatoes in his grasp. "Want one?" he asked Romano, who's eyes widened at the very sight.

He nodded, trying not to seem too eager, but his mouth was watering already. He'd been looking for a chance to try one again since yesterday. He paused only long enough to wipe it off a little before taking a huge bite. He ate it like an apple and allowed the juice to trickle down his lips before licking it up. _Ah, just as good as I remember._ He hoped Spain didn't notice how much he enjoyed the fruit.

As they sat in silence for a few minutes, Romano realized that, for some reason, it was a lot…easier to be around Spain than his brother or Germany. Of course he would much prefer to be alone; but when Spain wasn't talking, or singing, or whistling, or poking him, or in any other way annoying him, like right now, he wasn't so bad. Of course, the fact that he was just a touch drunk greatly influenced this realization, but it was still kind of nice to be with someone and not feel completely miserable.

Then Spain ruined the pleasant moment by talking again. "Hey, Romano, if there's something bothering you, you can tell me, you know?"

"What?" Romano stared at him in disbelief and disgust. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I meant if you wanted to talk to someone about the whole thing with Italy, like we did yesterday."

Romano cursed under his breath. He _knew_ that one moment of weakness yesterday would come back to bite him eventually. "Look, I wasn't being serious, stupid. I was kidding," he said with what he hoped was an appropriate mixture of bluntness and carelessness.

"Oh, ok," Spain agreed readily enough, but Romano knew he didn't really believe him. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you, as a friend, whenever you need me." He dropped it immediately and changed the subject after that, but Romano wasn't quite ready to move on that fast.

_Friend? Did he just use the word _friend! Romano was too consumed in his own thoughts to pay attention as Spain continued to babble on cheerfully about the winery they'd visited earlier.

Romano had never had friends before…is this really what it was supposed to be like? He wasn't sure if he liked it. It seemed like an awful lot of hassle, and besides, what was _he_ getting out of it?

_I must end this 'friendship' as soon as possible,_ Romano decided determinedly. _I'll just leave, and maybe the idiot will take the hint…_ He was actually about to stand up and leave Spain alone without saying another word, but a strange sensation running down his spine stopped him.

Spain was touching his hair curl.

"This little curly piece of hair is so _cute_!" Spain practically squealed as he delicately traced the curled end with a finger. He didn't appear to notice how Romano was frozen in place with horror.

Romano's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and his face was flaming red. His head felt fuzzy, and he couldn't stop a small moan from escaping his lips completely against his will. _No…God, what the hell is this guy doing!_ In desperation to escape, he gathered his strength and pushed Spain's hand away from him.

He found that he was panting slightly as he stood up and screamed, "Stay away from me, you bastard! Don't you dare touch me!"

"What? What's wrong?" Spain asked, sounding confused. Without answering, Romano ran back into the house, not pausing for a second, even when he heard Spain shouting.

"Romano, wait! I'm sorry!"

Romano hurtled into the sitting room, almost tripping over a coffee table as he tried to escape. He was greatly disturbed by what had just happened, but the scene he had burst in on made things even worse.

A bare-chested Italy was lying on his back on the couch, pulling Germany, who was on top of him, into a deep, passionate kiss. Romano gaped at the couple for a few seconds, nearly forgetting his own problems for the time being.

Italy noticed his presence a moment later and broke away from Germany. "Lovino?" Italy asked in surprise. He was the only one who was allowed to call him by his first name, though it still irritated Romano to hear him use it, especially considering the circumstances. Germany also glanced over his shoulder and his face, a little red from drinking, deepened to a brilliant shade of crimson. "I thought you and Spain were…" Italy trailed off, a little embarrassed at being found in such a compromising situation.

Romano didn't bother to wait around and hear the rest of the sentence. A frustrated, "Chigi!" was the only sound that escaped his lips as he barreled his way out of that room, too, and sought the sanctity of his bedroom.

He threw himself onto his bed and lay face down for several minutes, his pulse slowly returning to normal. At least, as normal a pulse as you can have when in a constant state of aggravation. It also didn't help that his mind turned, of course, to what had just transpired outside with Spain.

Ever since he was a much younger nation, he'd discovered that whenever anybody touched his hair curl he became, quite inexplicably, sexually aroused. It was completely involuntary and it made no difference as to who was the one that did it. No one but his brother, who suffered from the same plight, knew about it (well, Germany had probably figured it out by now, but whatever). He hadn't worried about it for years because he never let anyone in his life get close enough to him to have the chance to set it off.

Spain hadn't known; he _couldn't_ have known. So why did Romano feel so…violated? And embarrassed? _I never want to feel like that again,_ he thought, squeezing a pillow tightly in his arms, against his chest. Despite his hard outer shell, Romano was not terribly brave at heart, and he was frightened by a situation like this, one that he didn't have control over. _If this is what it's like to have friends, I really don't need them. Feli can be the popular one, I'm fine being alone._

He heard the sound of fingers tapping on glass, and he whipped around to face the doors that led out to his balcony. Spain was outside, smiling sheepishly back at him. It seemed that he'd walked around the exterior of the villa to Romano's room. _Are you ok?_ he mouthed through the windows.

In response, Romano threw all four of his pillows at the glass, one after the other. Spain visibly flinched, though of course none of them could reach him through the door. Then Romano got up and forcibly yanked the curtains closed, blocking Spain's shocked face from sight. "I told you to stay away from me," Romano muttered, though he knew Spain couldn't possibly hear him.

He sank onto the bed once again, without replacing the pillows, without undressing or otherwise preparing to sleep. He wouldn't be able to sleep for hours, if the unpleasant, hollow sensation in his stomach was any indication. His mind began racing once again.

Whatever he'd been thinking earlier, about how much more comfortable he felt around Spain, and all the rest of that crap, was out the window. Obviously the alcohol had been affecting him more than he had thought. But now that he was thinking clearly again, it was obvious that Spain was just as annoying as the rest of them, if not worse.

_I hate him. I really do_, he thought, though it made him feel as though he was just trying to convince himself. _No! _He shook his head, clearing it of any doubts. _I hate him, with his annoying voice, smile, house, everything! Why won't he just leave me alone! _For a few seconds he actually considered this question, and to his surprise, he came up with an answer.

_Because he likes me. He _wants_ to be friends with me, _he realized, and an unfamiliar emotion clawed at his pushed it away impatiently and dismissed it with the thought, _Well, that's _his_ problem, because the feeling is _not _mutual._

He rolled over in bed so that he was lying on his back and stared up towards the ceiling, though his room was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing. "I don't need him," he said aloud to the dark room. "I don't need anyone, I'm fine by myself."

…

Spain didn't understand what he'd done to upset Romano so badly. He'd thought they were getting along very well. Romano had almost smiled while he ate his tomato. So what had gone wrong?

Spain sat outside alone for a few minutes after Romano ran off, pondering what had just happened. Romano had looked angry and scared when Spain had touched his hair, but he'd also looked…flushed. Hot and bothered. Spain had to admit that he'd been very cute, with his face so red, and his eyes so wide and confused looking. Then he grinned slightly at the thought that he might have made Romano a little too _excited_, and that's why he ran off.

Still, Spain sighed as he thought of how futile it all was. Every time he tried to get closer to Romano, to learn more about him, he was shut out. It looked like Romano didn't want him in his life; not as a friend, or anything else, for that matter. This knowledge that he wasn't wanted hurt Spain more than anything else, much more than the insults that Romano shouted at him from time to time. He knew that Romano just acted so angry all the time because it was his way of dealing with everything, but he'd been hoping that he might be able to see what lay beyond that hard exterior. He'd developed a weird fascination with the man over the last few days, and wanted to know everything about him. So now he was worried about how much the incident tonight might have affected their already precarious relationship.

He decided he should try and make amends for whatever he'd done to make Romano so distressed. He wandered back into the house the same way Romano had gone and found the sitting room empty. It seemed that Italy and Germany had moved on from the couch. Romano had probably gone to his room, Spain reasoned.

He walked back outdoors as he realized that his best bet at reaching Romano would be from the outside. No doubt he'd locked his door already. So he walked along the outside of the house until he reached the balcony of the room he'd given Romano. The view from this side of the house was fantastic; it's why he'd chosen this specific room for Romano. Even from the first day they'd met, Spain had been trying to cheer him up, but in vain, thus far.

Spain tapped on the glass of the sliding doors that led into the house. Though it was dark, he could see Romano lying on the bed. As the soft noise reached his ears, his head snapped up and around and he stared at him. Spain smiled slightly, trying to look natural.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, sure that Romano would be able to read his lips. Romano looked back at him blankly for a few seconds, and Spain hoped he'd come back out to talk to him. Then Romano began hurling the pillows from his bed at him, one at a time.

He flinched, surprised that Romano would do that. _Did I really do something all that bad?_ He watched as Romano crossed the room fuming and pulled the curtains across the door, blocking him from sight.

_I'll let him cool off a bit and then try again,_ Spain decided, completely undeterred by Romano's reaction. A mild smile still stretched across his face, and he hummed under his breath as he found his way back inside. He looped back around the house and sat in the moonlit kitchen for a while, having another drink and snacking on some junk food until he determined that he'd left the angry Italian alone for long enough.

He padded gently down the hallway to Romano's room, feeling his way in the dark. He paused outside Romano's door, listening. Maybe he'd gone to sleep and wouldn't want to be bothered? But no, because then he heard Romano's familiar voice speaking aloud into the night.

"I don't need him. I don't need anyone, I'm fine by myself."

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><p><strong>Ah, we finally got a little perspective from Spain! We'll probably be seeing more of this later on, so I hope you guys are interested!<strong>

**Thanks to theticktalks, as usual, and thanks to my readers. Feel free to leave reviews, tell me what you think of this story so far!**


	4. A New Perspective

**Yay! Chapter 4! Hetalia's not mine, blah blah blah, all the usual stuff. I don't really have much to say, so, enjoy!**

**A New Perspective**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

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><p>"I don't need him. I don't need anyone, I'm fine by myself."<p>

The words cut through Spain's calm, happy demeanor and brought his heart to a complete standstill.

_I don't need him_. There was no doubt in Spain's mind that Romano was referring to him. Who else could he possibly mean? _I don't need him_. The words reverberated in Spain's skull.

Shock continuing to course through his veins, he slowly eased away from the door, backing down the hallway. His own bedroom was on the opposite side of the dark, quiet house, and he dragged his feet the entire long walk there. He was still trying to comprehend what Romano had meant by the statement.

_I don't need him._

He sank into a chair in the corner of his room to think, to sort out his emotions. Strangely, he wasn't feeling very much at the moment, other than surprise. He knew he should be upset, angry, dismayed, _something_. However, as he let the words sink in, he felt only one thing; a deep, heartrending, sadness.

But he wasn't sad for himself in the slightest. No, the melancholic ache in his chest was clearly meant for Romano, and him alone.

A few days ago, Italy had told Spain that Romano had never had a real friend before. It was one of the reasons he'd been so intent on growing closer to him, to give him a chance to open up. So now that he'd heard what Romano said, he just felt so…_sad_ that Romano continued to shut out anyone who tried to be his friend. He was so alone. He didn't have anyone to talk to, to trust, to have fun with. To love.

"Poor Romano," Spain said unhappily. He rose from the chair and dropped onto his bed. He pulled his shirt off and lay down, trying to come up with a solution to Romano's problem. He knew that letting him live his life this way, completely alone, wasn't a viable option. _I'll just have to try even harder with him,_ Spain thought. He smiled slightly as he determinedly promised himself that he _would_ become friends with Romano, no matter what it took. He swore that he'd prove that Romano _did_ need him. With a clearer mind, he let the breeze blowing gently through an open window lull him to sleep.

He fell asleep still thinking about Romano.

…

Romano didn't sleep well that night. He lay awake in the dark for what seemed like forever, and the little sleep he did get was broken and not restful. At one point, around 6:30 in the morning, he was awake again and feeling restless, but he didn't want to get up so early. He decided to make a quick trip to the kitchen and grab a glass of water before trying to sleep again.

He walked down the hallway silently, because he knew that Italy was still asleep, if not anyone else. As he approached the kitchen, though, he noticed that the light was on. He continued slowly, and stopped when he reached the doorway, looking in at a very strange sight.

Germany was in the kitchen alone, with his back to Romano. He had a rag in his hand, and he was methodically wiping the countertop, and Romano swore that he heard a soft humming coming from the blonde. He watched curiously for half a minute, before saying quite loudly,

"What the hell are you doing?"

Germany jumped up and swore violently as he hit his knee against the cabinets beneath the counter. Romano laughed as the other man rubbed his sore leg. He crossed the kitchen to the sink and poured himself a glass of water while Germany tried to explain himself.

"I wake up much earlier than any of you, so I just…clean…it relaxes me," he said, blushing embarrassedly.

Romano snorted into his cup. "That's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard! You're on _vacation_, you idiot."

Germany shrugged, apparently without anything else to say in his defense. Romano finished his water and left the glass in the sink, too lazy to walk the couple of feet to the dishwasher to put it in for cleaning. Plus he knew how much it would annoy Germany. He stretched and gave Germany a sarcastic and somewhat insulting salute in way of parting. It was time that he went back to bed to try to sleep again.

He was halfway across the floor before Germany spoke again. "Romano, look, I know you don't much like me…"

"That's an understatement," Romano agreed flatly, without even turning.

"But," Germany continued, undeterred. "I'm asking you to listen to me, just this one time. Feliciano and I have been talking…"

"Oh, great," Romano said under his breath.

"And he wanted you to know that he thinks you should give Spain a chance."

Romano rubbed his eyes. He pinched his arm. _There's no way I'm actually hearing this!_ he thought, but he felt the pain and saw a small red mark left on his forearm. He was awake, he was alive, he was hearing this for real. Eventually, he had to ask, in a tone of utter disbelief, "What kind of game are you two playing at?"

Germany shrugged again. "I'm just telling you what he said."

"Well I don't need my baby brother and his bastard _boyfriend_ to tell me how to live my life!" Romano yelled, furious. Germany made an angry noise of protest, but Romano was already gone.

_Who does he think he _is! He stamped back down the hall and to his bedroom in a rage. He slammed the door open and then closed again, no longer caring how much noise he made. He lay down fuming, grumbling to himself about German bastards and how he couldn't even trust his own family until he fell back into another uneasy sleep.

…

Romano awoke a few hours later still angry. In itself, that wasn't unusual, but he felt _particularly_ distressed, and at first he couldn't remember why. Slowly it all came back to him, and he groaned at the thought of having to face everyone not only that day, but for the next several as their vacation continued. He also blushed a little when he recalled everything that had happened last night too, and the feeling of Spain's hand on his hair curl. He shook his head sharply and instead concentrated on getting dressed.

A few minutes later, he poked his head out from his room and into the hallway. He glanced left and right, on the lookout for Spain, the one he most wanted to avoid. Nothing. He relaxed just a bit and was about to step out when he heard footsteps.

He ducked back inside and peeked around the doorframe. To his relief (relatively, that is), it was Italy, yawning and stretching as he made his way out of Germany's room. Well, if he had to face someone, he'd rather it be his own brother, because at least he knew how to deal with him.

Romano stepped into the hall and leaned against the wall, arms crossed against his chest. "Hey. Feli."

Italy turned to face him. "Lovino!" he shouted excitedly, bouncing his way towards him. Romano barely suppressed a disgusted shudder as he recognized the loose-fitting, unbuttoned shirt that Italy was wearing to belong to Germany. "_Buongiorno!_" he said a little more loudly than necessary as he finally planted his feet in front of Romano.

Romano again had to resist the urge to gag as he caught a whiff of that potato-bastard's cologne emanating from his brother. "I was wondering…" he said through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact. "Do you know if Spain has anything planned for today?"

Italy tilted his head to one side for a minute as he thought. "Ve~…nope, I think we're just staying here today! But we're going to Barcelona tomorrow, and it's gonna be-"

"Yeah, that's nice, Feli, _grazie_," Romano interrupted his brother, shoving him to the side as he stalked off down the hall. But he came to regret all the noise he was making, stomping all over the house, as soon as he reached the end of the corridor and Spain popped his head around the corner.

"Hey, Romano~ whatcha doing?" he said with his usual infuriating grin. Romano wondered how he was acting so normally, considering that they hadn't parted on the best of terms last night. _He must truly be stupid,_ he decided grimly. It seemed the most likely explanation. _Either that, or he's as crazy as everyone else around here._

Rather than answering what he considered a useless and annoying question, he turned and found the nearest door that led outside. Unfortunately, he couldn't shake Spain off that easily.

"Where're you going, Romano?" he asked. He was following Romano like a lost puppy.

Romano yanked open the door and muttered, "I'm going for a walk."

"What?"

"I'm going on a freaking walk, ok!" he yelled, and slammed the door shut behind him. Thankfully, Spain didn't follow him.

Now that he was outside, he had no choice other than to actually take a walk. He mumbled under his breath the whole way down Spain's long, winding driveway, kicking at pebbles at random and glaring at innocent, wild morning glories. However, the farther away he got from the house, the calmer he became, until he was bordering on enjoying himself in the late-morning sunshine.

After walking for a good 10 or 15 minutes, he spotted an old stone wall not far from the road. After thinking about it for a minute, Romano decided that taking a break would be an excellent idea. He'd awoken too late for breakfast and left before he had gotten anything else to eat, and he didn't really feel like walking on an empty stomach, anyways.

He walked over to the wall, which was little more than a pile of rocks. He eyed the area critically, wondering if it was worth getting his pants dirty, but he eventually sat down on a flattish, fallen stone, and leaned back against the other rocks behind him. He took in the view of fields and scattered trees for a few minutes, idly plucking a piece of tall grass and twisting it into knots.

He allowed his mind to gradually breach the topic of Spain again, trying not to let his fiery emotions get the best of him as they usually did; as they had last night. For once he found it was actually easy to remain neutral, as long as he continued taking deep, soothing breaths of the sweet country air.

_Why was Spain so casual with me this morning?_ was the first question he asked himself. The answer was pretty obvious. _He still wants to be friends, even after how I've acted the last few days._ This was quite the new concept for Romano. Usually he could drive anybody away after spending a couple days with them. But this Spaniard was unusually persistent; annoyingly so. Still, the fact that anyone was making such an effort was…kind of nice. Weird, and a little exasperating, but nice. Not to mention how great it was for his ego.

He thought back to what he'd said to himself last night. _I don't need anyone, I'm fine by myself._ Now that he was out here, alone and composed, he realized that he'd been, once again, trying to convince himself of something that wasn't completely true. Lately, he _had_ felt like having someone else in his life that he could talk to might be a good idea, even if it made him uncomfortable to admit it. And though he _loathed _the thought that his brother might be right, Spain was certainly the most willing and most convenient candidate. But still…it was _Spain_ they were talking about!

He felt a headache coming on from all the pressure building in his system. _See, even just the thought of him upsets me. If only he wasn't so goddam _annoying!

"Why is this so difficult!" He spat at a passing butterfly.

The phone in his pocket gently vibrated against his leg. He pulled it out and saw that he had a new text. The sender was identified as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Romano rolled his eyes. It was all fine and well to _think_ about being friends with Spain, but when it came down to it, the man truly irritated him to no end.

He opened the text and read: **come home soon for lunch! im making something good. :)**

His fingers were itching to write a scathing response, or ignore him completely, but he resisted the temptation. He compromised by putting some foul language in it, and then he leaned back against the stone wall again, sighing at the whole mess he'd gotten himself into.

…

**ok, ill friggin be there for ur damn food. bastard.**

Spain slid his phone shut. He decided not to press his luck by texting Romano again, but just be happy that he got a reply in the first place.

"He says he'll be here!" he told Italy. They were both in the kitchen, getting ready to cook lunch. They were going to make _paella_, and were currently gathering the ingredients to take outside, where they were going to cook it on an open-air fire.

Germany was outside, watching the fire, and Spain and Italy joined him shortly. Spain began cooking, insisting that his guests shouldn't have to help him. They agreed, reluctantly, and sat watching and engaging him in conversation for the next 15 or so minutes.

Now Spain had a nice broth from all the meat and vegetables that he had been cooking, and it was almost time to add the rice. As was customary, he gave Germany and Italy a taste of the broth, the purpose being to ask the guests if they think more salt is needed.

Just as they were both letting the broth pass their lips, Romano entered the yard, back from his walk. He looked to be in a better mood than when he had left, and Spain was happy to see him.

"Romano! You're just in time!" Spain grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the broth. He ran it as quickly as he could, without spilling it, over to Romano and gently bumped the spoon against the other man's closed lips. "Go on!" he said encouragingly.

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Romano obediently opened his mouth and let Spain tip the warm liquid down his throat. Spain waited expectantly, excitement building as Romano swallowed.

"What do you think? Need any more salt?" Spain cocked his head to one side as he watched Romano's strange reaction.

He seemed to look over towards Germany and Italy for a few seconds, before back at Spain. His cheeks looked a little red, and he stared at the ground as he said quietly through bared teeth, "It's pretty good."

Spain smiled, but he sensed something wasn't quite right. This didn't seem like the Romano he knew. _Is he okay?_ he wondered as he went back to the fire. "What do you guys think, does it need a little salt?"

"Just a bit more," Germany replied, and Italy nodded. Spain added a pinch of salt to the mix and then added the rice.

"It'll be ready in about 20 minutes!" Spain announced cheerfully. Romano walked over to join the rest of them by the fire.

"So what the hell is it, anyway?" he asked sourly. Spain felt relieved to hear his normal tone of voice again.

"It's _paella valenciana._ It's a great dish to share with friends! You eat it right out of the pan, the _paellera._"

"So I have to share a plate with you people?" Romano looked disgusted at the thought, and it made Spain laugh. Romano was always trying so hard to be miserable about everything, it was funny.

"¡_Por supuesto!_ It's fun, you'll like it." Romano muttered a response under his breath, but Spain didn't hear him. Romano was always talking to himself, and Spain never paid much attention to it. Instead, he focused on the _paella_, trying to get the rice to just the right consistency.

…

Though Romano found sharing the _paellera,_ as Spain called it, with the others to be somewhat nauseating, the food itself was delicious. Not that he deemed it necessary to tell Spain that. He'd tried -really, truly, _tried_- to be friendly when he had first come into the backyard. He'd given Spain's cooking a _compliment, _for God's sake. But he found it didn't suit him at all, so he'd given it up just as quickly as he'd started. It wasn't worth all the effort.

Now it was after lunch, and the others had all dispersed, back to doing whatever it is they did for fun. Romano wasn't really sure what he should do, since being angry was his main hobby, and he'd already done plenty of that today. Yelling, also high on the list, was a good option, but he didn't know where the others were and he was too lazy to find out.

So instead, he decided he'd read a book.

He browsed Spain's library, but nothing was really jumping out at him. He was about to give up and forget about it when he saw a title he knew; _"Don Quixote_". Looking closer, he saw the full title was actually "_The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha"._

"Pretty fancy title," he said carelessly to no one in particular, pulling the thick volume from its shelf. He knew that this book was one of, if not _the_, most important pieces of Spanish literature from throughout history, but he'd never read it before.

_Maybe reading this will give me a little insight into how Spain thinks, _he thought amusedly, taking the book outside with him to read under the shade of the trees.

He spread a blanket he'd borrowed (without permission) on the grass and settled down. He glanced at the cover again and tried to remember what the book was about. _Wait, isn't this book about a delusional old man…oh my God, it all makes sense! _Eager to see if he was right, and if this somehow reflected Spain's personality, he opened to the first page and began reading with zeal.

Twenty minutes later the book lay open on the blanket, forgotten, and Romano was lying on his back, almost slipping into sleep in the warm breeze. He was just too _tired_ to read, and the book was so _long_, he'd never get through it anyways.

After a few minutes with his eyes closed, he felt someone else's presence nearby. He opened an eye and, sure enough, Spain was standing a few feet away, leaning back against the nearest tree. _Doesn't the guy have anything better to do than stalk me?_ Romano wondered.

However, unlike usual, Spain didn't say anything. He just smiled contentedly and gave Romano a slight nod when he noticed he was looking.

Somewhat suspicious, but relieved, Romano closed his eye again and allowed his mind to wander. No matter how far it drifted, though, it was always sure to come back periodically to the present. To this pleasant moment, probably the sanest, calmest, most normal moment he'd shared with Spain.

_This is...alright._

…

Spain was just happy to see for himself evidence that contradicted Romano's statement from the night before. A grin even wider than his normal one was plastered to his face as he watched Romano doze off in the dappled sunlight and shadows of his garden.

_This is perfect._

* * *

><p><strong>GAH! These two are just so cute, aren't they? And my rambling, non-existent plot gets even more rambling as the chapters continue…haha. Oh well! Don't forget to leave reviews! Super big thanks to theticktalks, especially since she gave me the whole idea for Germany cleaning when he wakes up early for this chapter! xD<strong>

**¡**_**Por supuesto! – **_**Of course!**

**The full Spanish title of "Don Quixote" is "**_**El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha**_**" by Miguel de Cervantes. **

**This chapter had a lot of stuff going on in it, didn't it? I think I'll try to make them cleaner and more concise in the future…just thinking aloud…anyways, thanks for reading! :D**


	5. Baby Steps

**Chapter 5, can you even believe it…I'm sorry I didn't post over the weekend. I'M A BAD PERSON, I KNOW! D: I had a lot of problems with this one, soooo…yeah, we'll see how it goes. xD**

**Baby Steps**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

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><p>Romano had accidentally fallen asleep outside in Spain's garden the same afternoon they'd all eaten <em>paella<em> together. He'd been relaxing in the sun, trying to ignore the Spaniard only a few feet away, and before he knew it, had slipped into a deep sleep, his body trying to make up for the hours he'd lost the night before.

When he awoke, he found that it was quite dark outside and that a quilt had been tucked around him as he slept to keep him warm in the slight breeze. Upon realizing how this situation must have come to be, he sat up angrily and ripped the blanket from his shoulders. "That bastard…treating me like I'm a little kid, why couldn't he wake me up like any _normal_ person would," he asked himself huffily under his breath as he grabbed his other stuff that was lying on the ground and stomped back to the house.

He checked the nearest clock as soon as he got inside and saw that it was after 10:00 already. _I slept for that long!_ _Why didn't anyone wake me up!_ His stomach was growling, since he'd missed dinner, so he scoured the kitchen for something to eat. He didn't find anything that looked particularly appetizing to him, so he was about to give up when he spotted a brown paper bag on the counter.

With a dull sense of curiosity, he opened it and to his delight discovered three fat, ripe tomatoes, just waiting to be eaten. He pulled out the biggest and happily sank his teeth into it. As he ate, he decided he might as well go to bed again, since it seemed the others weren't around and he had nothing better to do.

Still eating his tomato, he had just found the entrance to the hall that led to his bedroom when he heard a soft snoring sound from the next room over. He glanced inside and by the moonlight could make out the shape of Spain lying on the couch, fast asleep.

Romano entered the living room quietly, just looking at Spain's sleeping face. _Ah, my favorite way to see Spain; asleep._ He wasn't doing anything that Romano could consider offensive; he was barely even smiling. Romano went so far as to brush a lock of brown hair off his face to check.

_There. That's how he _should_ be all the time. Wouldn't that be a nice change?_ Romano shook his head at the impossibility and was about to go to bed when he noticed that he was still holding the blanket Spain had apparently placed on him earlier.

His gaze traveled from the blanket to Spain and back again. He groaned softly to himself. He knew what the decent thing to do would be; he knew it and he despised it. But if he left without covering Spain up at all, then he'd feel guilty. After all, he, his brother, and Germany had already completely taken advantage of Spain's hospitality and generosity these last few days. And Romano knew that _he_ wasn't going to be inviting Spain over to _his_ house any time soon to repay him for his kindness. So he knew that returning a simple gesture like this one shouldn't be too much to ask for, and even if he didn't want to, he knew he had to do it.

_Arrghhh! The bastard guilted me into it while he's frigging _asleep! Hating himself every second, he spread the quilt over Spain's sleeping form. He didn't tuck him in or anything, but he was still disgusted with himself.

_At least I can go to bed with a clear conscience now,_ Romano thought as he left the room. When he reached the doorway, he took a last, quick peek back at the couch. Spain was now cuddling with the blanket, clutching it protectively against his chest.

Romano gave a little snort of laughter and a half-smile at Spain's almost childish sleeping posture. _Idiot._ Then he went to bed, feeling he'd done his good deed for the month, and he was glad that he'd repaid his debt to Spain. Sort of.

…

The next few days at Spain's house were enjoyable enough, by almost anyone's standards. _Almost_ _anyone's_ standards do not usually include Romano's, however, and this was no exception. It's not like he hated every single thing they did; they visited some beautiful cities, like Barcelona and Córdoba, and Romano had a decent time there. But at the house, it was another case all together.

He was beginning to be downright tired of living in such close proximity with three nations he had absolutely no tolerance for, and he was desperately looking forward to tomorrow; the end of the vacation week from Hell! He just had to survive one more day, and then sweet solitude was his.

But even that knowledge didn't make today any easier.

"Hey, Romano~!" Spain shouted from his place in the swimming pool. Romano, who was lounging and trying to soak up some last minute sun, opened his eyes and glared at him. Spain waved when he saw Romano looking at him, and then ducked back under the water to chase after Italy, who was also swimming.

Romano lay back down, a scowl now settling onto his face. _That guy's so goddamn irritating…_

As this thought ran through his head, it suddenly hit Romano that he'd never considered _why_ he found Spain so annoying. There didn't seem to be a real reason; he'd just accepted it as fact. But now it made him wonder.

_I didn't really have a problem with him when he was asleep a few days ago, right? So then he has potential; and if I can figure out why I hate him so much while he's awake, maybe I can beat the trait out of him and he'll become bearable all the time! He doesn't seem too bright, it probably wouldn't be all that hard…_ It was a tempting idea in Romano's eyes. Since he couldn't _find_ anyone, maybe he could _mold_ his own ideal friend!

So he had a mission for the last day he spent here on Spain's home turf; to discover the source of his extreme aggravation! He wanted to keep this observation process as simple as possible. He'd watch Spain for a few hours and note down anything that really got under his skin. Easy. _Okay, let's do this!_ he thought determinedly.

All of this was decided in the short amount of time that Spain was under water, and when he came back up for air, Romano was watching carefully, ready to begin.

Spain came up gasping and laughing at something that Italy had done while they'd been under. Then he shook his head back and forth, and drops of water from his hair went flying in all directions, making both nations giggle even harder.

Romano began to regret his decision almost immediately, as his blood began to boil at the simple, idiotic exchange. But he decided to grit his teeth and bare it. _Alright…so his laugh is one thing I really can't stand. Got it._

He buckled down and prepared for what he expected would be a long, long afternoon.

…

A couple painful hours later, Romano was still diligently tracking his ignorant prey. So far, the things that he'd found that had annoyed him the most had been: laughter, singing, whistling, cheerful conversation, skipping, exaltations of joy, and, the most persistent of all, smiling. Now, just as it was beginning to get dark out, he was discreetly watching Spain from behind a flowering bush, and practically pulling his hair out as the other gently strummed a guitar.

_Everything he does is just so…so…damn it all!_ Romano still couldn't find the right word to describe that perpetual quality about Spain that made him so exasperating to be around. Romano frowned and listened to the soft sound of the guitar, trying to see if maybe it was a hint to whatever it was that he hated.

The song the Spaniard was playing was slow, gentle, and melancholy. If there were words, he wasn't singing them, instead letting the music speak for itself. Romano listened closely, waiting for that feeling he usually got in his gut after spending a few minutes with Spain, but it didn't really seem to come this time. He felt utterly neutral; a little sad, maybe, but not angry.

_That's weird…_Romano had been sure that guitar playing would be added to the list. He hated when Italy made him listen to the silly songs he was always playing. What was so different this time?

Romano decided he needed to talk to Spain in order to figure out what was going on. He stepped out from behind the bush and walked around Spain to stand, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart and arms crossed against his chest, about two feet in front of him. Spain stopped playing, and looked up at him with a smile much less brilliant than usual on his face.

"Hey, _qué__ pasa, _Romano."

"What song were you just playing?" Romano demanded, ignoring Spain's greeting.

Spain looked surprised at the question. He thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. "It wasn't anything. I was just playing how I was feeling."

"And how were you feeling?" Romano asked, somewhat violently.

"Uh…sad, mostly, because you all are going to leave tomorrow, and I had a lot of fun this last week. I loved having you here, ya know."

Romano was thrown off a bit by this response. For some reason, it made him feel frightened, and he didn't know why. He hesitated and spluttered for a second before saying, "W-Well, that's stupid of you!" and tramping off back to the house, his heart pounding a little unnecessarily.

Once he had a minute to breathe, the feeling of fear subsided, and he was just in a bad mood again, so he decided to ignore his moment of cowardice and move on.

_What an idiot. He should be glad we're leaving. I know _I _am._ He sought a room where he could be alone and think a little, and came across a small alcove with a comfortable chair in it. He sat down and let himself cool off a little more for a minute or two before turning back to his original problem.

_What is it about Spain that I just can't stand?_

Laughing, singing, whistling, talking, skipping, shouting, and smiling were the things he'd put on his list. Sad guitar playing hadn't made it. He furrowed his brow as he thought. _So…that means…_

Then it hit him.

"Happiness," he whispered aloud as it dawned on him. That was the common thread. "His _happiness_ is what makes me feel this way. And I was planning to…_beat_ it out of him…"

He tried to picture a Spain without a goofy grin on his face, without laughter sparkling in his eyes. A strange feeling in his chest made him grimace as the images crossed his mind. Even _he_ wasn't so cruel as to try and do that.

He shook his head with a defeated smile on his lips, and turned to look out the window at the twilit Spanish countryside. _Ah well. I'll find someone._

…

Spain watched Romano run back to the house, looking almost as if he was scared. Spain considered going after him, but didn't, at least not at first. He knew that those Italian brothers weren't the bravest, but what had made Romano look that way?

_Was it something I said?_ Spain wondered. _I told him that I loved having him here…can that scare someone_? He shrugged and picked himself up, brushing loose dirt and grass off his pants. Taking his guitar with him, he followed Romano's lead at a much slower pace and went inside.

He found Germany and Italy sitting in the living room together. Germany was engrossed in a novel and Italy was lying on the floor, sketching in the book he brought with him everywhere.

"Have you guys seen Romano?" he asked them from the doorway.

"No," they both answered at the same time, Germany in a monotone voice, Italy singing it.

"Alright, _gracias_. Have a good night." Spain left the two and wandered in and out a couple of rooms. He was still debating about whether or not he should even try to find Romano. What would he talk to him about if he found him, anyways?

But then he happened across Romano sitting in the alcove, staring out the window and looking rather thoughtful. There wasn't a trace of the fear Spain had seen earlier left on his face, so he thought it would be safe to have a quick conversation.

"Romano! I didn't say anything earlier to upset you, did I?" he asked with a teasing smile that wasn't quite genuine on his face.

"What? No, of course not, bastard," Romano answered, looking as surly as ever and avoiding eye contact with the Spaniard. Spain entered the small space without an invitation, probably getting a little closer to Romano than the other would like.

_He's never had a real friend before._ Spain recalled the words Italy had spoken to him just a few days ago as he settled onto the arm of the chair that Romano was sitting in. The horrible implications of that statement nearly broke Spain's heart as he sent Romano a warm smile, trying to let him know it didn't have to be true anymore. No such luck, as Romano's frown only deepened when their gaze met.

Again, Spain noticed a slight glimmer of fear flashing in Romano's eyes. _Is he afraid of _me?

"Romano, are you scared of something?" he asked softly, and, not noticing the way Romano bristled at the question, he continued. "You know you're safe here, right?" He smiled just a little wider, to reassure Romano that everything was fine. It didn't seem to work, as he was met with disbelief and aggression.

"I'm not afraid of anything! What is there to be afraid of, you retard!" Romano responded hotly.

Spain shrugged and moved a hand to place it nonchalantly on top of Romano's head, to give it a little pat as he said, "Ok, but i-"

"Hey!" Romano shouted, slapping Spain's hand away from his head. "What did I tell you about touching my hair!" He stood up from the chair and faced Spain.

"Sorry, I forgot!" Spain answered as cheerfully as he could. He took Romano's place in the armchair, sliding in sideways so his legs were still resting on the arm where he'd just recently sat. He fiddled with a loose thread hanging from the upholstery, waiting for Romano to make the next move, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Romano seemed to deliberate internally for a moment, unsure of if he should stay or go. Eventually, and with a sigh that indicated he was going against his better judgment, he sank onto the cushioned windowsill of the alcove, watching the darkening sky outside. He still didn't meet Spain's eyes, but he had stayed in the room with him, and Spain was content with this small victory. He closed his eyes, resting and relaxing and feeling very at peace.

"Um…" Romano spoke up after a few minutes. Spain looked at him and saw his face looked pained and his cheeks were red; he was blushing. "Look, I just wanted to say…thanks." It sounded like it cost him a good deal of pride to spit out the last word.

"Thanks?"

"Yeah, for…you know, letting us stay here, and babysitting my brother and that potato-bastard and all the rest of that shit." His voice was harsh, as if he was trying to make up for anything that he said that might be too soft or sincere. But that didn't stop Spain from noticing it.

"Then, you're welcome," he said with an honest smile, the first he'd had all evening. Romano rolled his eyes, but he still looked embarrassed, making Spain grin again.

He really had been upset that this was his last night with his guests here. Not only because he'd had such a great time with them all and he would be sad to see them go, but another reason as well. He had been feeling depressed all evening because he had known that he hadn't managed to get Romano to open up, hadn't really become friends with him, and that he'd just about run out of time to help him.

But this finally felt like a step in the right direction and it gave him a good reason to smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Bad chapter is bad. -_- Sorry, like I said, this didn't quite go how I wanted. Hopefully the next couple will be better! But you know, if you still liked this chapter, it wouldn't hurt if you mentioned that to me. xD<strong>

**Huge thanksies to theticktalks, Lycoris1305, and everyone who reads this, favorites, reviews, or whatever you do! Thank you for putting up with me and sticking with the story so far! :D**


	6. Home Again

**Chapter 6, yeeeee. Sorry that I've been totally off schedule…I'm a bad person. Well, I had to take the SATs this weekend…so I can use that as my fake excuse of the week, haha. **

**Home Again**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

* * *

><p><em>Finally. It's finally time!<em> Romano's thoughts were interrupted as he thought he heard Italy sniffle and he glanced his way in disbelief. _Is he crying or something? Jesus Christ…_ He was right. A few tears threatened to drip down Italy's cheeks as they said their last good byes to Spain.

"Ve~, I'll miss you, Antonio!" Italy sobbed, throwing himself at Spain and clinging to him for dear life, it seemed.

"I'll miss you, too, Feli," Spain said, giving the Italian a squeeze and a pat on the back. Italy didn't let go, though, and continued crying unnecessarily on Spain's shoulder. After a few more minutes of this, Spain eventually gave Germany a look pleading for help.

Germany touched Italy on the shoulder and before he knew it found the sobbing Italian in _his_ arms. He gave Italy a quiet reminder that they would come back to visit Spain another time, and they'd always see each other at the next World Meeting. That cheered Italy right up, and Germany only had time for a rushed good bye and another thank you before Italy was pulling him along outside, already babbling on about how he'd spend his next visit with Spain. Spain laughed gently as Italy waved back through the open front door as they climbed into the car that would take them to the airport.

And thus, Romano was left alone with him.

He slowly began approaching the door, hoping Spain wasn't expecting a hug from _him._ After all, he'd already, much to his embarrassment, thanked Spain last night, what else could the guy want? But no such luck.

Spain grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around Romano's chest. "I'll miss _you,_ too, Romano," he said in a voice that seemed a little more serious than usual, though Romano barely noticed. He was too busy trying to pry open Spain's hands, pushing and pulling and attempting to break free.

"Get off of me, you freak!" he grunted, now trying to elbow Spain to try to free himself.

"Okay, okay." Spain released Romano, who immediately headed for the open door. Spain followed behind, shouting good byes and waving at Germany and Italy again. "Visit any time!" he called to Romano just as he made it halfway to the car.

He raised a hand to let Spain know that he was heard, though he was rolling his eyes in the meantime, and soon he was in the car and the sound of Span's voice was blocked out. He slumped slightly with relief; he was going to be home in a matter of hours! He'd never had a more stressful vacation before.

Still, as he looked back towards the villa as they rounded the last gentle curve before it would be out of sight, he felt a strange pang in his chest, like his heart skipped a beat or two. He coughed and the feeling was gone. _Must've just been excitement at leaving,_ he thought, and felt so proud of that explanation that he actually convinced himself that it might even be true.

…

The rest of the drive to the airport and the flight back to Italy was uneventful. Germany went home with them because Italy asked him to stay at _their_ house for a couple of days, much to Romano's dismay. Thankfully, Germany decided that he could only stay one night before he had to go back to his own country.

_And about time he went home, too,_ Romano thought grumpily as he shouldered open the front door to the house he shared with his brother. It seemed to _him_ that every other time he turned around Germany was spending the night, or the week, or the goddamned _month_ at their place. And now that his and Italy's relationship was officially out in the open, Romano expected it would only get worse.

Romano entered the foyer dragging two suitcases behind him. They weren't _that_ heavy, but…Jesus Christ, Romano was exhausted from all that 'vacationing' he'd done! He looked around for some way to get out of carrying them upstairs…_Germany. Perfect._

"Hey, sausage for brains."

Germany looked up as he walked through the front door. "Are you talking to me?"

"Time to put some of that dumb muscle of yours to work!" Romano pointed at the suitcases and smiled sweetly.

Germany, who had gotten far too used to this type of comment over time, just sighed resignedly and lugged the two extra suitcases with him up the stairs. He made it a point never to give Romano an _extra_ reason to hate him, and Romano abused the power it gave him with relish.

Now Romano collapsed on a nearby couch, weary with all his exertion. _Nothing would ever get done around here if it weren't for me…_he thought with satisfaction. He only had a moment's peace, however, before things returned to 'normal' in the Italy household. Not long after he shut his eyes Italy came bounding into the room, holding a cat in his arms that looked grumpy and had probably been awoken from a nap by the excitable Italian.

"It was fun at Antonio's, but isn't it nice to be back home, Lovi?" Italy sang as he jumped and landed directly on Romano's knees. Romano let loose a slight moan of pain. Then Italy put the cat he was holding on Romano's chest.

The cat stared daggers into Romano's eyes, and then, seemingly out of pure spite, sunk its claws into his chest, leaving a tiny pinprick of blood where each of its claws pierced the skin, and purring gently as it did so. Then it ran off, and Romano could just imagine it laughing at him. At the same time, Italy began humming and bouncing up and down on his brother's knees, a painful creak greeting him every time he descended.

Romano didn't even have enough energy to yell at him. He barely had enough for the amount of sarcasm he put into his next statement. "Yeah, it's just _great_ to be home."

…

Italy had lived with Romano for too many years to count. Technically, he should have been living farther north, independent of his brother, but he'd slowly just started spending so much time at Romano's to the point where he never left and Romano got used to him being there. But he wasn't always happy with the arrangement, and the first few days after they came home were definitely on the lower end of the scale.

After Germany left the morning after returning, Italy seemed particularly clingy to Romano. Usually they kept an agreement that Italy had his half of the house and he wouldn't come over to Romano's side or bother him excessively. But right now it seemed like the idea of solitude was a scary thought to the younger Italian brother after living so closely with some of his favorite people. Romano found it increasingly frustrating to have no respite from Italy's constant and obnoxious presence. He began to wish Germany was there to distract Italy; well, almost. Sort of.

But either way, he wasn't there, and Italy continued to attach himself to his older brother. It was the third day after they'd come home that his behavior became simply too much for Romano, and he nearly cracked.

Romano had been trying to relax that day, since the day before he and his brother had gone to see their boss and had been chastised for taking one day more than they'd asked for on their vacation. So he spent his afternoon in the hot tub they kept out in the back, trying to soak away his worries.

It had been going well, for the first ten minutes or so. The hot tub was soothing and music played softly in the background. Romano closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the jets work their magic and feeling…relaxed. Just calm and relaxed. He didn't know where Italy was at the moment, and frankly, he didn't care. Maybe things would finally start getting better in their house.

Hot water splashed up and over his face, soaking his hair and igniting his fury at the same time. He dragged his hand halfway down his face, clearing his eyes and then leaving it to cover his mouth, as words could not sufficiently express his anger.

Italy was just popping up in the center of the hot tub, calling out from how, apparently quite unexpectedly, hot the water was. "Ve, Lovi, why do you set the temperature so hot!" he laughed.

"To keep the idiots away," Romano muttered to himself as Italy settled himself on the side opposite him.

"So, watcha been up to?" Italy asked him cheerfully after Romano allowed an awkward silence to stew for a few minutes.

He just shook his head scornfully. "You've been _with_ me for every moment of the last three days up until half an hour ago!"

"And hasn't it been fun!"

It sounded more like a statement than a question to Romano, and anyways, he deemed it unworthy of a response, so he remained silent.

Italy hummed a little tune, unconcerned about his brother's coldness, since he'd grown used to it over the years. Romano watched Italy with narrowed eyes as he began swaying back and forth to what must have been the music in his head, because the radio had switched to a commercial.

_I don't understand how anyone can just be so…stupid_, he thought as he continued to watch his little brother getting more and more into his strange dance. Without warning, Italy crossed the short distance of the hot tub and shoved his face right up into Romano's.

"Lovino, you don't look very happy," he said with a seriousness that threw Romano off guard.

"Not happy? I'm never happy," Romano scoffed. Italy climbed up and settled down into Romano's lap, like he used to when they were little and Romano used to actually take care of him on occasion. He felt a weird tugging sensation in his chest when he thought of the past. Even though he didn't really like having Italy so close to him, it _did_ give him this strange sense of nostalgia, so he allowed it. For now.

"That's not true!" Italy shouted in response, flailing his arms excitedly, and accidentally whacking Romano in the back of the head. "You were happy last week! I saw you!"

It took Romano a minute to remember what Italy would be referring to when he said 'last week' and when he realized that he was talking about their stay with Spain, he let out a snort of laughter. "I think you're confused, _fratellino_," he said in his sweetest, kindest, and fakest affectionate voice. "Last week was _not_ a happy time for me. Now get off of me, you're heavy, ya bastard."

His moment of nostalgia was over and he just wanted to get Italy away from him. It took a little prodding and poking, but eventually Italy slid onto the shelf next to Romano, which was some improvement, though not much.

Then Italy started up another of the many one-sided conversations Romano found himself thrust into so often. He rambled on about every stupid little thing; what he had for breakfast, what he wanted for dinner, Germany's _eye color_, for God's sake, that cloud that looked like a bunny, no, wait, a penguin! and on and on. Romano found himself sitting in a dazed stupor after a while, unable to understand any of it anymore and not particularly willing to try. He just shook his head occasionally in amazement at the level of idiocy radiating from a man he unfortunately called brother.

Well, it seemed that after so long talking, even Italy could wear himself out. He fell into silence eventually, and Romano, after closing his eyes and pretending that Italy was no longer there, was able to slip back into the mood he'd been in before he had shown up; one of simple peace and tranquility.

"Hey, Lovino! I have an idea!" Italy suddenly shouted. "Let's go run and jump in the pool now, while we're all hot! We'll be just like those Finnish guys!"

Romano smiled excitedly. "Yeah, ok! You go first, I'll be right there!"

"Alright, see down there~" Italy called as climbed out of the hot tub and ran towards their unheated swimming pool. Romano shook his head incredulously, the false smile sliding off his face. _What an idiot._

"Do you be-" Romano began to ask aloud before he clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. He'd been just about to ask _Do you believe that guy?_

The concerning part was, he'd intended the question for Spain.

_What the hell is wrong with me!_ he wondered, his heart racing after the scare he'd given himself. _I'm talking to people who aren't here; and it's _Spain, _too! It's gotta be Italy stressing me out…yes, it must be the stress._

He was able to calm down after deciding it was Italy's fault, but he was definitely still uncomfortable with how everything was going.

…

Romano glared at his phone, which was lying on the bed next to him. It had been a few days since the whole hot tub incident, and to Romano's eternal shame and disgust, he'd ended up doing the same thing several times since then. He would just unconsciously turn to shoot a look at Spain or share a snide comment about Italy with him. But he was never there; of _course_ he was never there, and Romano was irritated with himself for _expecting _him to be there.

"Damn Spaniard," he muttered, picking up his phone for the twentieth time in the last few minutes. "I should call him and ask him what he _did_ to me that keeps making me act like this!" He threw the cell phone back onto the bed, just like all the other times he'd picked it up. There were other motives behind the potential phone call, but this was the one he felt most comfortable saying out loud.

What he really wanted was just someone that would listen to him. Listen while he ranted about _his_ problems for once. _Care_ about his problems. Or even just someone to _distract_ him from his problems for an hour or two! Someone like…like a friend_,_ if he dared to even _think_ the godforsaken word.

But of course he didn't call him. He'd been having this argument with himself for days, and his pride always won out, every time. If he could help it, he would _never_ admit that he wanted someone to talk to, other than his annoying little brother, obviously.

Instead, he chose to continue lying on top of his bedspread in the summer heat, feeling anxious to talk to someone and at then squeamish at the same thought. It was rather like a form of torture, but he just couldn't force himself to make a choice either way for another half hour.

"Aw, screw it!" he finally shouted as his phone gleamed innocently in the sunlight pouring in from his window. The only way he was going to forget about all this was to go _do_ something. He forced himself to get up and exit his room, leaving his phone where it was. It's not like he was expecting any calls, anyways.

He ran into Italy, literally, just as he stepped through the doorway.

"I was just coming to see you!" Italy said. He sounded amazed at his good luck of finding his brother so quickly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, what the hell do you want?" Romano asked impatiently.

"Nothing! I just want to spend some time with you!" He grabbed ahold of Romano's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek against his upper arm. Romano's face began to glow bright red, in embarrassment to some extent, but mostly anger.

Oblivious to Romano's discomfort, Italy hung off his arm, rocking back and forth slightly as he exclaimed, "Hey, Lovi, I think we have some free time today, and I was thinking, we should sing some opera together! I heard this song that would work so well with you voice, and-" He couldn't take it anymore.

"Ok, fine, I'll do it!" Romano cried desperately to no one in particular, least of all to Italy, as he peeled him off of his arm and ran back into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Ve? Lovino, were you talking to me? Did you lock me out!" Italy called from the other side as Romano dove onto the bed, snatching up his phone as he rolled across it.

Quickly, before his pride could catch up to him, he selected Spain's number and hit call.

_Oh my God, what have I done?_ he stared at his phone in mild horror and shock as the phone at the other end began to ring. _I still have time to hang up…_but, biting his lip, he decided he'd let it ring a couple times. _He's probably asleep or something, anyways, he won't ans-_

The ringing stopped and a cheerful, _"¿Sí?" _came through the speakers.

Now he had no choice; he had to talk to Spain.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah, Romano, why won't you just admit you wanna talk to Spain? xD<strong>

**Welp, thanks to the usual people: theticktalks, Lycoris1305 (just cause I feel like thanking her :P) and ALL my readers! Seriously, you're amazing if you've actually put up with this story, and I love you.**

**I really do love you.**

**Now, to steal my sister's line, '**_**Review, da**_**?' They're always appreciated! n_n**


	7. House Call

**Meh, it's been forever since I updated, I know. Prom last weekend, AP US history test the weekend before, and I know you all are tired of hearing my excuses, so let's just read! xD**

**Hetalia's not mine. Haven't mentioned that in a while!**

**House Call**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -<em>André Breton<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>¿Sí?" <em>

Ok, so, technically, Romano could still hang up the phone. But Spain would be able to see who had called him anyways, and he would never be able to live this down unless he came up with something good to say, and fast.

He couldn't _wait_ to see what would come out of his mouth.

"It's me," he said stiffly. He really wasn't used to talking on the phone with people other than his brother and his boss. It was unnerving. He waited for a response with an unexpected feeling of tension in his chest.

"Romano?" Spain finally said, with something close to astonishment in his voice. "Is it really you!"

"Of course it is, idiot!" Romano barked into the receiver. The pressure he had just noticed building in his chest seemed to vanish, but in its place his perpetual anger welled up. Just the sound of Spain's voice seemed to make him feel agitated, and he briefly wondered why he had called him in the first place.

"Ve, Lovino, who are you talking to?" Italy's voice drifted into the room from behind Romano's closed door. Romano closed his eyes and sighed. _Oh, right. It was _his_ fault._

"I'm on the phone, shut up and go play by yourself for a while."

"Ok~"

"Sorry," Romano said to Spain automatically as he turned his attention back to the conversation. He winced immediately at the word; Spain didn't deserve the honor of receiving one of his few and far between apologies! But it was too late, he couldn't take it back.

"It's fine," Spain answered. He said it with such casual ease that Romano hoped he hadn't truly noticed his slip of the tongue. "How've you been?"

"Er…fine, I guess." Romano shook his head and internally balked at the stupid game of question and answer they were playing. He didn't have much experience with small talk, and it made him feel like he was losing his sanity by the second. None of it really meant anything, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, it seemed to be cement that held relationships together. _So unnecessary_. But he played along anyways. "And you?"

"I've been great!" And Spain proceeded to tell Romano _exactly_ how great he was doing. Romano began to realize that whatever stupid reason had been behind his phone call was going to get lost in the shuffle of meaningless chit chat, and he might as well hang up as soon as possible. He was, in fact, opening his mouth to make up an excuse when Spain asked gently, "Why did you really call? Is something the matter?"

"No!" He said at once. _Ah, but that's a lie._ An awkward pause followed while Romano took the time to literally swallow his pride. "Actually, there is something."

"What?"

"Well, I…" Romano was stuck again. He didn't know how to adequately express what he'd been feeling for the last few days. It would sound lame if he just told Spain that he was sick of his brother, and besides, that wasn't all that was going on. "To be honest, I don't freaking know, ok!" he said a little more forcefully than was necessary. "I just feel like…like I'm going to explode, or something, and I don't know what's wrong with me!"

Spain didn't say anything in response. He just seemed to be waiting.

Romano, finally letting his desperation get the better of him, poured his heart out, confused and jumbled as it was. He ranted for a solid ten minutes, relieving himself of years of tension, frustration, and solitude. He talked about things he'd never put into words before. He told Spain about living with Italy and all the pains it brought him. He talked about how that German bastard was always intruding and made Italy even more unbearable than usual. How they were so happy together. He touched briefly on the strange tight feeling in his chest that had been worse ever since they visited Spain, and even casually accused Spain himself of somehow causing the discomfort. He shouted and ranted and raved like a dam had been broken somewhere in his body, releasing a torrent of pent up emotion.

Spain never said a word the entire time, which Romano was grateful for. It was easier if he just forgot who he was talking to and allowed the words to flow without thought of what he was saying, or their consequences. By the time he was done, he felt empty, and exhausted of complaints for the first time in his life. It was strange, and very temporary, but kind of nice.

Spain waited a little longer without saying anything, and for some reason it made Romano feel anxious again. _Dear God, did I really just say all that crap out loud? He must think I'm so stupid…not that I care what he thinks, but, Jesus, I _am_ an idiot, aren't I?_ He waited a few more impatient seconds. _Why won't he just say something!_

"Romano, would it be ok if I came over some time?" Spain asked, completely out of nowhere.

This was hardly the response Romano had been expecting. Laughter, teasing, pity, a pep talk to liven him up; any of the above seemed likely. But inviting himself over? What was up with that? "Why?" was all he could think of to say in response, he was so bewildered.

"Huh? I don't know! I just think we should hang out sometime! Please?"

_Oh my God, what is wrong with this guy?_

"Well," Romano began, looking for an easy way out of this. A lie seemed good enough. "I don't know. Our boss gave us a lot of work to do this week and the next…and probably the next…"

"But what about after that?"

Romano sighed. He sure was persistent. "…Look. I had been trying to spare your feelings, for some reason. But I got over it, and now I'm going to be honest. I just don't really like you that much, and I don't really want to hang out. Kay?"

Spain only laughed at that. "Don't make me call Feli and make _him_ invite me over!"

_Could he do that? _Would _he do that?_ Romano's eyes narrowed suspiciously and his voice grew dangerous. "You wouldn't dare."

"Would too!" Spain said carelessly.

_He's like a child! _Romano considered it for a moment and then decided to interrogate Spain a little more. "At least really tell me why. Why are you so insistent on coming over?"

"Because I wanna see you again!"

"And why on Earth would you want to do that!"

"I like spending time with you. We're friends, right?"

Romano didn't answer that one.

"Oh, come on Romano, just invite me over. You know you want to~"

"I do _not_ want to!" Romano shouted. Then, taking a calming breath, he answered in a more civilized tone, "But if you're going to come whether or not I invite you, then can I at least ask you wait a couple days? We'll be busy until Saturday."

"Of course!"

"Fine, then."

"Ok! See you Saturday! I'll miss you until then! _Chao~_"

"Shut up, you bastard!" Romano yelled, but Spain had already hung up. "I'll kill him when he gets here," he muttered as he turned his phone off and threw it aside.

But despite his usual scowling countenance, inside he felt lighter and freer than he had in months. Years, even. _Why is that? _he wondered.

And then, as the full impact of what had just happened dawned on him, dread made his heart sink like stone, down to settle in his stomach. _Dear God, save me._

…

Spain ended his call with Romano and placed the phone on his desk slowly, thoughtfully. When he'd seen that the incoming call was from Romano, he'd assumed that it would probably be Italy, having stolen Romano's phone or something. But instead, it had truly _been_ Romano, to his surprise and delight.

Then the phone call had gone…interestingly.

Romano had actually opened up. He'd done so in an aggressive, accusing manner, and he mostly talked about some of his more shallow problems, but he'd still done it. It meant a lot to Spain, to just sit quietly and listen while Romano talked to him. He'd listened to his voice and closed his eyes and imagined that Romano was sitting right there in his office with him, looking at him with those big, hazel eyes, trusting him…

_I think I've got a crush,_ Spain thought, laughing gently at himself as he blushed a little at the memory. But he'd still been touched by the call, and now he was excited at the prospect of seeing Romano again soon. Maybe he'd make more progress with him. Maybe he'd get Romano to tell him more about that 'tight feeling' he had in his chest when he thought about him. He smiled at the thought.

"Well, now I have plans for Saturday!" he said aloud, picking his cell phone back up and putting a reminder for himself in. Not that he really expected that he would need it, but he wanted to give himself something to do other than the paperwork he was supposed to be filling out. He felt excitement grow, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading upward throughout his body until his fingertips even tingled.

_I can't wait for Saturday!_

…

_I can't believe it's already Saturday._

Romano was in the front hall of his and Italy's house, pacing back and forth in irritation. The week had passed much too quickly for him, and the weekend had come before he'd adequately prepared himself mentally for Spain's arrival.

He was still furious with himself for how the conversation on the phone had gone the other day. He hadn't at all intended to actually _talk_ to the guy! To spill his guts for all to see. To _embarrass _himself like that. Not that he could have said what his true intention was, either, but…it certainly wasn't _that_. He hated being weak in front of others, especially Spain, and he was disgusted by the display. Next thing he knew, he'd be crying and carrying on like Italy when the idiot Spaniard showed up.

Eventually Italy himself wandered into the front room, too, and Romano scowled at him. This was _his_ fault, wasn't it? Everything was. If it weren't for Italy, they never would have gone to Spain, never stayed at his house, he never would have called him, and he _never_ would have willingly invited him over.

"When is Antonio coming?" Italy whined, tugging on Romano's sleeve.

"I don't know. And don't touch me!"

"Ve, I hope he comes soon…"

_I hope he forgot to come at all,_ Romano couldn't help but think. Then, as the idea sunk in, he felt a surge of hope that maybe he _had_! Life would be so much easier, and-

"_¡__Buenos __días__!" _Spain shouted, letting himself in the front door with a sense of familiarity he shouldn't have had. Romano's heart and hopes fell again. He hadn't forgotten.

"Antonio!" Italy called, running over and giving Spain a hug, bouncing slightly as he did so.

"Hi, Feli, good to see you," Spain said, giving Italy an affectionate pat on the head. Then he saw Romano. He untangled himself from Italy's grasp, and rushed to embrace him, too.

Romano stiffened when he felt Spain's arms around him, but he just rolled his eyes and got ready to endure it. He was used to this sort of thing and could handle it calmly. Until he felt Spain's lips on his cheek.

"Hey!" he shouted, pushing Spain away from him before he could get the other cheek. "What the hell was that for, bastard?" He felt his face grow hot as Spain and Italy laughed at his reaction.

"I was just saying hello!" Spain giggled. Romano growled and glared at him. Kissing on the cheek was one greeting ritual he'd never gotten used to and tried never to practice, especially on other men.

As he watched the man in question with disgust, Spain's face lit up as though he suddenly remembered something. "I almost forgot! I have a present for you two!"

He picked up a bag that had been abandoned by the door when he walked in and began to search through it. Romano muttered darkly under his breath as he rubbed at the spot on his cheek, watching Spain warily from a safe distance away.

Then Spain found what he was looking for and carefully lifted a small potted plant out. It was young and healthy looking and was tied to a stake to keep it upright. He beamed at Romano, who looked at him, confused.

"You brought us a freaking plant?"

"Not just any plant! It's a tomato plant that I had sent specially from Spain! You can plant it in your garden, and think of me whenever you eat its tomatoes!" Spain seemed pretty excited about the prospect.

"Wow, Antonio! _Grazie!_" Italy exclaimed, taking a closer look at the plant. "Isn't it nice, Lovino?"

Romano had to admit, having fresh tomatoes at home would be nice. He supposed that out of all of the things Spain could have brought for a present, this wasn't such a bad gift.

"Alright," he sighed. "Thanks. We'll plant it later."

"Can't we do it now, Romano!" Spain begged.

"Yeah, Lovino, let's go do it! Please!"

Two big-eyed, hopeful faces stared at him pleadingly. Italy's he'd seen enough times to be immune to, but Spain's face…well, looking at it made him feel…uncomfortable, somehow.

"Why don't you two just go do it?" he asked, taking a step back.

"But we _need_ you," Spain whined, moving closer again and placing a hand on Romano's arm.

He avoided meeting Spain's eyes, but he could still feel that gaze trained on his face and felt the hand on his arm give him a squeeze. For some stupid reason, he was blushing again. Eventually he couldn't stand it anymore, and he broke.

"Fine! We'll plant the damn thing together."

"Yay!" Italy and Spain practically danced around him as he led the way into the backyard. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so he made a bee line for a spot between two flowering bushes in their back garden.

"Here," he said, pointing at the bare spot in the mulch. Italy ran off to grab a spade and a watering can from the shed, and Spain sauntered up to Romano's side.

"How've you been since we talked?" he asked politely. A little _too_ politely, in Romano's opinion.

He looked at him suspiciously. "Fine."

"You don't have anything else you wanna tell me? Anything that's been bothering you?"

Romano groaned and rolled his yes. _So that's what this is about._ "No! Look, I really didn't mean to go off like that the other day, so you should just forget about whatever it was I said." To be honest, the memory was a little fuzzy in Romano's mind. He guessed that maybe he was subconsciously blocking that particular moment in his life. Whatever the case, he didn't really remember anything specific that he said.

"Eh, if you say so." Italy came back at that time and they took a couple of minutes to plant and water the little sprout. Romano watched, for the most part, not wanting to get his hands dirty doing something so trivial.

Afterwards he tried to escape but was forced by the others to hang out with them. If he tried to leave, they just followed him. If he yelled and insulted them, they just laughed and brushed off the words. Even if he just sat and sulked they still found a way to include him and irritate him to no end.

Yes, they harassed him, teased him, joked around with him, and annoyed him. But for some reason, it didn't bother him as much as it usually did. Oh, it angered him all right. But it was comfortable, natural, and less stressful than he was expecting. He could scowl, and be mad, and yell at them without truly feeling like pulling his hair out. It was kind of nice, even if it left him wondering why this was so.

And sometimes, when they weren't looking, he'd even let himself smile and roll his eyes a little bit at their idiotic antics. Especially after he got some alcohol into his system.

Evening came, and as the three men ate and drank and talked and the sky grew dim, Romano began to wonder when Spain was going to leave. He hadn't said anything about it, but Romano knew that if he was flying home he would want to be at the airport before it was too late.

"Spain, don't you have to be somewhere?" he asked pointedly.

"Hm? Oh, well…" Spain hesitated and seemed to glance over at Italy.

Italy spoke up at once as the Spaniard's gaze met his. "Antonio, you flew out all this way, you should spend the night here!"

"Well, if you insist! _Muchas gracias."_

Romano laughed a little. "This is _my_ house, Feli, in case you've forgotten!" Italy shrunk slightly under Romano's gaze, but his grin was persistent.

"You're not going to kick me out now, are you, Lovino?" Spain asked, shifting slightly closer to Romano on the couch they were sharing. Spain had apparently taken up calling him by his first name since this afternoon. Hearing it come from his mouth made Romano's stomach churn in an unfamiliar way.

"No…I won't kick you out," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest and sinking down further into the couch.

"Good! Cause I'd be sad if my best friend wouldn't let me stay with him for a day." Spain grinned broadly at Romano and then turned to Italy to continue a conversation from earlier. He didn't seem to notice the effect of what he'd just said on Romano.

_Best friend…he thinks that _I'm _his best friend!_ Romano snorted with condescending laughter for a moment before it petered out. _Well…it might not be so bad, being friends. Not that _he _has to know that._

* * *

><p><strong>Wee, stuff be going on! xD I hope no one feels like I made Romano open up a little too quickly in this chapter, but… a. it was kinda supposed to be like that and b. to be honest I was getting impatient with my own story! I just wanted him to move on! Rushed chapter is rushed. Deal. xD<strong>

**Thanks theticktalks for reading and helping, as always. And this time, Imma thank Lycoris1305 for a good reason; 'If you say so' is her trademark phrase. And I stole it. xD**


	8. Morning Coffee

**So…I don't even have fake excuses for this. I was just too lazy to write for like, a week after I last posted. Sorry! Warning, this chapter is a lot shorter than usual! Don't go into it expecting too much…it's not all that great anyways, in my opinion…oh well.**

**Morning Coffee**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton<p>

* * *

><p>Romano was getting ready for bed on the night that Spain decided to stay over. He had his pajamas on and was about to flop into his bed when he hesitated as an idea occurred to him. It was something he hadn't done too often lately, but seemed like it might be appropriate.<p>

Feeling only slightly foolish, he knelt at the side of his bed, closed his eyes, and folded his hands in prayer. "Uh…hi, God. It's been awhile," he began, feeling at the same time stupid and humble. Religion was an important part of his culture and history, but that didn't stop him from feeling certain doubts about the existence of a God. Still, at times the overwhelming desire to blame someone else for his troubles overcame him and then he found he could curse God with all his might. At other times, he'd found that God was the only person he could count on to always listen to his troubles. It was different than having a real live friend to talk to, but it still helped.

He continued with his awkward prayer. "A lot has been happening lately, but I'm still only asking the usual. Let me be patient and calm. Let Feliciano be less annoying. Let his German boyfriend learn to mind his own business…" he growled the last one before taking a moment to stop and think about what else he should say. Even as the words formed in his mind, he still hesitated to say them aloud; it was embarrassing. "And about Spain…help me to understand him. I _think_ that I want to be friends or something with him, but it's going to be hard, and I'm still kind of confused about the whole damn thing. It might be easier if he was less annoying as well. So yeah. Thanks." He was about to throw in an _Amen_ to complete the train wreck when his door slammed open. Whipping his head around to face the intruder, his eyes met none other than Spain's.

"Lovino, can I…oh, are you praying!" Spain looked perfectly delighted at the thought. Romano quickly tried to deny it but before he could get the words out or stand up, Spain was standing over him, grinning. "Let's finish it together!" Spain was saying.

"No, let's _not,_" Romano said, making another attempt to get up but Spain placed a hand heavily on his shoulder and prevented him.

Spain put his knees on either side of Romano's and knelt, pressing up against Romano's back in an extremely uncomfortable way for the Italian. Then Spain covered Romano's hands with his own, forcing them to clasp again, and laid his head on Romano's shoulder. He began to speak softly in prayer, but Romano couldn't even hear the words, he was so horrified.

_What the hell does he think he's doing!_ he thought angrily. Spain had no sense of personal space. If he'd wanted to, Romano could have _felt_ more than he'd ever hoped to know about Spain. He noticed his cheeks glow red and hot at the thought and cursed himself for it. _I can't do this anymore._

Knowing it was probably some sort of sin, and not caring, he cut Spain off mid-prayer, throwing an elbow back into his gut. "Get. Off. Me." His voice was deceptively calm, considering the rage boiling in his chest.

Spain had grunted at the surprise attack to his midriff, but now he said good-naturedly, "Ok, ok. And bless Lovino. Amen."

"Amen," Romano agreed as Spain removed himself from the extremely awkward position he'd put them both in. "Why the hell did you come in here, anyway?" he asked as he stood up.

"Oh! I was wondering if I could borrow a shirt."

"Why didn't you ask Feli?"

Spain grinned. "Because I wanted to ask _you_!"

Romano rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Whatever." He crossed the room to a set of drawers and opened the top one.

He grabbed the first shirt his hands came in contact with and threw it at Spain. "Get out. Now."

"Alright! Thanks!" Spain turned and sauntered out of the room. Romano stared daggers into his back until he was gone.

He flipped off his light and fell flat on his back into bed. _That guy is exhausting_, he grumbled to himself for a few seconds. But then he shook his head and rolled over and he was almost smiling when he fell asleep a few minutes later.

...

Spain lay in his borrowed bed, wearing a borrowed shirt, openly admitting to himself that he was staying in this house on borrowed time. He knew that Romano hadn't exactly let him stay out of the goodness of his heart, and that he'd be pushing it to try to stay more than one night. Not to mention he had responsibilities back home in Spain. But tomorrow he was going to make the best out of his extra day with Romano. He was determined to make it a day to remember.

_So I'd better get some sleep!_ he reminded himself. But he was having difficulties with that part of the plan.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and a familiar scent caught his attention, temporarily distracting him from his mission of sleep. He buried his face in the linens to see if that was it…no…not quite what he'd smelled. Then he turned his face to the side and sniffed his own shoulder. _The shirt smells like Romano!_ he realized, smiling happily at the discovery. His stomach did a couple of small flips as he breathed in the pleasant, clean smell again. This kind of reaction to something as simple as a faint smell finally confirmed something.

_I guess I really do like him._

It was a thought he'd been toying with the last few days, ever since the conversation he'd had with Romano on the phone. At first it had been almost a joke, but now he was seriously considering it. It certainly explained a few things; namely, his near obsession with getting closer to the man.

_I wonder if Romano likes me back?_

This was the next logical question to ask, of course. He hadn't really thought about it before, but now he did so, a little apprehensively at first. Then he smiled. The answer seemed obvious after a moment's thought. _He must like me; otherwise, I wouldn't be here right now!_  
>This thought put him at peace and eventually he drifted off into pleasant dreams about what the next day might bring.<p>

...

Romano opened his eyes to the sound of footsteps approaching quickly, and flinched just before the impact of Spain's body landing on his.

"Get up! I'm making breakfast! Come on, up!" Spain insisted from where he was lying across Romano's back.

"Only if you _get off_ me first!" he replied grumpily. Romano wasn't a morning person. He wasn't really an afternoon or evening person either, but morning was the worst. Spain bounced up after a few seconds and ran out of the room, shouting,

"Just hurry or it'll get cold!"

Romano slunk into the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed but certainly not ready for the day. However, the smell of coffee in the morning never failed to attract him downstairs, no matter how foul a mood he was in. He wasn't a big breakfast person, but he would die without his morning _cappuccino_.

When he entered the kitchen, he found both Spain and Italy already sipping steaming mugs of hot coffee. They were both wearing aprons that were covered with flour, and were talking animatedly, hands flying in all directions and drinks in constant danger of being spilled. _Like usual_. Romano didn't believe either of them could talk any other way.

Spain was facing the door that Romano entered through, and his face lit up even brighter when he saw Romano coming in. "Lovino! Do you want some _café con leche_? I made some for you!" He held out a third mug to Romano. "Careful, it's hot," he warned as Romano took the drink gratefully.

He'd had Spain's _café con leche_ every day that they'd spent at his house. The first morning he'd been skeptical about the drink. He generally preferred an iced cappuccino, but he'd grown to like the hot Spanish coffee drink over the week he'd had it. Although he hadn't told anybody, and probably never would, after they'd come home he'd actually missed having it in the mornings. The last couple weeks, he'd even started drinking a _caffellatte _every day over a _cappuccino_, in an attempt to find a similar drink without making it too obvious.

Now he accepted the drink nonchalantly, with a casual glance up at Spain. "You've got flour all over your face, stupid," he muttered, automatically reaching up and brushing some off Spain's forehead before taking his coffee. It was only after he'd sat down with his drink that he realized what he'd done and he blushed, mad at himself. _I always do the stupidest things around this guy…_he thought, wondering why that was but not coming up with any answers that he particularly liked.

Luckily, Spain seemed too busy at the stove to take notice of anything unusual about the gesture. "I'm making _churros_ for breakfast," he said. "Want to help fry them?"

"No," Romano answered at once, drinking his _café_ and unfolding a newspaper that was laid out on the table.

"Ooh, I do! I want to help!" Italy volunteered. They began frying the dough they had made beforehand, and Romano pretended to read the news for a few minutes while he was actually listening closely and waiting for something to go wrong with those two both standing near a pan of hot oil.

Somewhat to his disappointment, everything went without a hitch with the _churros_ and soon Spain was setting a plate of them before him. They were warm and had honey drizzled over them and to be honest, the smell made Romano's mouth water. He was a sucker for good food. But he continued pretending to read the paper as he ate, trying his hardest not to show any enjoyment on his face.

Spain and Italy also sat down to drink the rest of their _café_ and eat some _churros_.

"So, what are we going to do today?" Spain asked with his mouth full.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth. It's disgusting," Romano snapped. Then he groaned softly. _Jesus, I sound like his goddam mother this morning…_

Italy promptly exclaimed, "We 'ave to 'o to th' mark't!" with his mouth so full he spit bits of _churro_ all over the table. And Romano.

Romano gave Italy a look that quickly quelled the excitement in his eyes as he wiped flecks of pastry off his chin with his napkin. _I really can't do this anymore._

He stood up, gave Italy a good whack across the back of the head with his newspaper, and stalked out of the kitchen with all the menace he could muster. Considering the silence behind him, he thought it worked. He walked all the way outside to the back porch and collapsed into a swinging seat that hung from the overhanging roof.

He looked at the sun in the distance, which was hanging just above the horizon, and contemplated how much he hated mornings. It wasn't long before Spain slid the glass door open, just as Romano knew he would eventually. The guy wouldn't leave him alone. "Hey! I've been looking for you all over the house!" he said, laughing as he plopped down next to Romano on the swing. He seemed delighted to find that the bench swung easily back and forth, and it wasn't long before they were rocking at a pace that made Romano's stomach queasy.

"Stop it! Just stop it!" He sighed, even as Spain slowed down to a gentle swaying. "Just stop," he added again quietly, but Spain didn't seem to notice.

"Romano! Look at how beautiful the sun looks! I love sunrises, don't you?"

"Not particularly."

Spain hummed a little as he continued swinging them both slowly, taking no notice of Romano's negativity. _He really is stupid,_ Romano couldn't help but think, but there was a certain softness to the sentiment.

"Will you really take me to the market with you today?"

"Well, I hadn't really been planning on going with him-"

"Oh, please! Please, please, it'll be fun!"

Romano sighed, tired of resisting at this point. "Fine. I'll go." Spain cheered and hugged his arm in celebration. He rolled his eyes at the display and pushed him back, but found an exasperated smile making its way onto his face as Spain refused to let go. He immediately wiped it off, but that didn't change the fact that it had been there.

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><p><strong>Sorry this chapter is really short, considering how long a break I took…I was originally planning on writing more, but I was feeling guilty that you all had waited so long and thought that you deserved <strong>_**something**_**. Hopefully you weren't too disappointed by the length (and/or the quality) of this chapter. : (**  
><em><strong>café con leche<strong>_** – coffee with milk**  
><em><strong>caffellatte - <strong>_**comes from Italian 'coffee and milk'**


	9. When In Rome

**I just really want to thank you all for reading this, and for being patient. To make up for the last, short chapter, this one is much longer than usual! So, super huge shout out to all my readers! And a special shout out to one Katelyn Rushano, who always leaves me reviews that are just really awesome. Thanks!**

**This chapter has kind of a different feel than the others. We'll see what you guys think about it…**

**When in Rome**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton<p>

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><p>Romano stepped out of the car, grumbling, as they reached their destination; a small farmer's market in a hidden corner of the great city of Rome. Since he and Italy knew the city better than anyone, they knew all the good local places to buy their produce without having to fight a big crowd for it. And this place was the best, by far. But that still didn't mean that he <em>wanted<em> to be there.

Italy and Spain jumped out of the car after him, their mouths moving a mile a minute as they excitedly talked over each other without even noticing, or caring. Romano followed them sullenly as they merged with the gentle chaos of the market.

As far as Romano could tell, the three of them were here for very different reasons. Italy wanted to buy some fresh vegetables for something he was making for dinner. Spain had come to see some of the city and to visit an Italian market. And Romano himself had come because…well, actually, he wasn't really sure why he'd said yes. Spain had been begging that he tag along, and next thing he knew, they were already in the car on their way there. He shrugged, suddenly feeling defensive. _I just felt like coming today, that's all. No real reason._

The whole time they were in the market, Romano just followed his brother and their guest without taking much notice as to where they were going. He was too engrossed in his own thoughts to really care, either. Italy was only dragging Spain around and haggling with the locals for their wares, it wasn't anything so exciting that Romano needed to pay attention anyways. He stayed a few paces behind them and played their angry little shadow. Spain glanced over his shoulder at him a few times and occasionally gave him a warm smile, but it did nothing to cheer him up. In fact, he just deepened his scowl each time.

Finally, Italy had gathered all the necessary materials for…whatever it was he was going to make for dinner that night. If he'd said it at some point, Romano hadn't been paying attention, or cared enough to remember what it was. But it didn't matter, because they were done, and could go back home. Or so he thought.

Romano was in the process of climbing back into the car when he heard Italy suggest, "Ve, Spain, we should at least take a drive around while we're here! There's some great stuff to see in Rome!"

He whipped his head around and glared at Italy. "I thought we just said we were going to get your vegetables!"

"Aww, come on, Lovino." Italy pouted a little.

Romano crossed his arms across his chest, not impressed.

Now Spain joined in. "Please, can't I see some more of the city? Rome is so beautiful! Please, Lovino?" Spain begged, tilting his head slightly and looking at Romano with big, green eyes.

_I _do _love bragging about myself…_Romano hesitated, but he could feel himself breaking under that gaze. But it had nothing to do with Spain; no, he'd just _always_ liked to show off his city. _Right_. "Well…okay. I'll give you a little tour. But we're going home before lunch!"

"Yes!" Spain darted forward and gave Romano a brief, but tight, hug. Blushing and spluttering angrily, Romano pushed Spain off of him before quickly tearing the car keys out of Italy's hand, trying to hide his embarrassment by doing something.

"I'll drive," he muttered, opening the driver's side door. He didn't give Italy even a second to argue the matter; he just slammed the door shut.

Spain slid into the passenger seat and looked at him with a mischievous grin. "So, where are we going?"

"Oh, you'll see," Romano answered bitterly, still pissed about the hug he'd gotten.

"Well, I'm happy to go wherever." Spain smiled honestly and openly at Romano. It made him a little uncomfortable, but he felt his anger simmer down to a mere annoyance. He sneered at Spain for half a minute, then turned his eyes back to the road in front of him.

"I'm not stopping anywhere," he warned. "We're just driving by all the tourist spots. It's too crowded this time of year, anyway."

"Okay," Spain said easily. Romano frowned.

He resented Spain's easy-going nature sometimes. Romano himself was always getting mad at the smallest things, completely flying off the handle half a dozen times on an average day. He didn't understand how anyone could be so happy and agreeable all the time, unless they were downright stupid. Didn't Spain realize that he had to sacrifice a lot of what _he_ wanted in order to make others happy? If everyone in the world was that way, nothing would ever get done. Not to mention it was annoying in addition to being impractical. Romano wished he'd fight back on occasion, just for a bit of variety.

But no, despite Romano's strange desire for it, Spain didn't ask to stop anywhere they went. He just smiled and laughed and seemed to be having a grand old time listening to Romano's stories; stories that you'd never hear from any tour guide. He asked questions and appeared to be genuinely interested in what Romano had to say. At first Romano was a little disconcerted by this behavior, but after a while he found that he quite liked all the attention he was receiving. Even Italy had shut up for the meantime, allowing him to say his part uninterrupted.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation like this. For all of recent memory, most of his correspondences had been with Italy (and the Lord knew _that_ could be like talking to a brick wall) or with his bosses, fleeting mortals that he could hardly care less about. But Spain was different. He was a nation, he knew what it was like, and Romano was actually…enjoying himself. It was only then, sitting in a car outside the swarmed Coliseum, that he understood why he'd called Spain up and allowed him to come over. He'd just wanted someone to _talk_ to.

So when they drove by the _Palazzo Poli_ and the Trevi Fountain, Romano was in such a good mood that he made a decision that he'd later come to regret. He stopped the car.

It was the middle of a hot, hot day, and many of the tourists had decided to duck in a building or museum somewhere to keep cool. Really, compared to the other spots in the city they'd seen that day, it was practically empty in front of the fountain. So Romano pulled the car over and said resignedly, "Okay. I'm giving you five minutes to _ooh _and _ah _and do the tourist bit, but then we're going home."

"Really!" Spain asked excitedly, even as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. Italy also gave a small cheer and bolted out his door, skipping around the car and over to the fountain, as though he hadn't already been there a thousand times before. Romano followed a bit slower, his own enthusiasm and good mood wearing off as he realized just how strong the sun was beating down.

_It's so damn hot!_ _No wonder no one's around here…_ he thought as he wiped an arm across his forehead, which had beaded with sweat the instant he stepped out of the car and into the inferno.

Eventually he caught up with Spain and Italy standing in front of the fountain. They were both acting like the perfect tourists, taking pictures with their cellphones, making faces and doing silly poses for each other and giggling the whole time. Romano rolled his eyes, beginning to think that stopping had been a bad idea. Then Spain began to dig in his pocket and he eventually came out with a nice, shiny, euro. Romano surprised himself by smiling a little.

"They say that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you're sure to come back to Rome someday," he told Spain, pointing at the euro in his hand. Spain grinned back.

"Well, I hope when we come back, it'll be together," he said, flipping the coin and watching it sink down to join the thousands of others that littered the fountain's depths.

Romano glanced away, scowling and blushing slightly. "Don't say such idiotic, embarrassing things," he muttered.

As his eyes traveled past the Trevi Fountain and beyond, he was surprised to find someone staring intently back at him, from a side street a little ways away. Romano didn't recognize the man, but he recognized his type; some kind of small-time criminal that thought he was real hot stuff, probably trying to make his way to the Mafia. A lot of these young hopefuls sought out Romano, if they had decent informants. They were always looking for some sort of connection, some easy way in, and they always thought that Romano could provide it. Well, he may indeed have plenty of connections to the organized crime in his own country, but that didn't mean he liked giving handouts to these upstart, smartass kids who rarely knew what kind of world they were entering.

Romano glared at the guy, hoping to scare him off, but he never even blinked. He just jerked his head back, clearly indicating he wanted Romano to follow him. Romano rolled his eyes and glanced back at Spain and Italy, who were still talking about the fountain and sharing some inside joke or something. _I really don't have time to deal with that brat_, he thought, looking back towards the guy and subtly giving him the middle finger.

Mafia-wannabe still didn't bat an eye. Romano was getting a little frustrated. This guy clearly knew who he was; couldn't he show a little more respect? _Guess I'll have to teach him a lesson myself._

"Get back in the car, I'll be there in a minute," he said, throwing the keys to Spain. Spain almost dropped them in his surprise.

"Huh? Where are you going? Can I come too?"

"No, you can't come. Just go sit in the car like a good boy, and don't let Feli get in the driver's seat. That's still _mine_." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking towards the guy, whose face hardly changed except for a distinct look of satisfaction now shining in his eyes. Romano's own eyes narrowed in response. He hated these cocky mortals that thought they were better than him, but then still had the nerve to ask him for favors.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and whipped his head around to see Spain looking vaguely concerned. "Is something…wrong?"

"No. What the hell would be wrong?" He shrugged the hand off his arm. "Just go wait for me. I'll be two minutes."

He left Spain standing there with a slightly puzzled look on his face, but he didn't care. Now he had this punk to deal with.

He caught up with the guy at the entrance to a narrow street. The man, who Romano could now see more clearly was wearing a dark suit, turned and began walking without saying a word and Romano followed, rolling his eyes. These noobs were always so dramatic about everything they did, too, like the only information they had about organized crime came from the movies. American movies.

Which, sometimes, really was the case. And sometimes, those were the most dangerous. But Romano wasn't scared, not in the slightest. There was very little a regular human could do to hurt him.

They walked a short way in silence before Romano's guide turned into a small alleyway to their right. It was dark and smelled damp. Romano wrinkled his nose in distaste, stepping carefully to avoid the nasty looking puddles on the ground. "You could've picked somewhere in a goddamn building for this, you know," he told the man.

The other gave him a withering look, but shrugged. "This suits my needs better."

_Ah, so he _does_ speak. Well, I'll shut him up soon enough._ "And what are your needs, friend?" Romano asked. But he didn't give his companion a chance to answer. He fell into the condescending tone he often used with guys like these. "No, don't tell me. You want what they all want. You managed to find out who, or what, I am, and you thought that I would be able to help you. Get you in league with the big boys. Well let me tell you, I've met with a lot of annoying bastards like you in the past, and you're all the same. Why the hell should _I_ take time out of my busy life to help _you_?"

As Romano spoke, a small, cold smile had started to lift the features of the young man. Romano really didn't like that look. It was irritating. He ground his teeth as he waited for a response.

"Well, I guess you got me penned, Mr. Italy." Romano winced at the name. "You're right." The man paused, probably for dramatic effect. "Mostly. You're gonna help me, but I ain't exactly _asking_ for it." He snapped his fingers once.

At that, three enormous men seemed to materialize from various shadowy hiding places. Two grabbed Romano's arms and the third held something against his back. A gun, most probably.

Romano barely managed to stop himself from snorting. _Yeah, real nice touch, guys,_ he thought sarcastically instead, wishing he could say it aloud.

The guy who was in charge took a few steps closer, now grinning a full, infuriating grin. "See, I figure that a country must be worth _something_ in ransom, and there'll be plenty that are willing to pay it. And the best part is, you're not exactly on the official record as a person. This can be kept quiet, and when I pull the job cleanly, every family across the country will be _begging_ me to join them. To _run_ them." Now that he was closer, Romano noticed a small glint in the man's eye that convinced him that the dude wasn't all there.

"You're either crazy or plain stupid if you think this will work," he stated flatly, almost bored.

His captor shrugged, unperturbed. "We've got a car waiting. Come on!" Romano turned around with the two goons on either side, not resisting. They were leading him back the way they had come, and now Romano could see a car idling at the entrance of the alley. He complied and walked a few steps forward with them but he soon got tired of the charade.

_Guess I'll have to show these bastards why _I'm_ the boss around here._

He was about to pull his arms out of the two musclemen's pathetically _mortal_ grips when he heard a heart-stoppingly familiar voice some ten feet in front of them.

"Lovino!"

…

"Is something…wrong?" Spain felt he had to ask. Romano was acting weirder than usual all of a sudden.

"No. What the hell would be wrong? Just go wait for me. I'll be two minutes."

Spain watched Romano leave the plaza, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. There was something weird going on here. First, Romano had to be practically dragged to the market, and then he said that they wouldn't be stopping anywhere, and then when he did stop, he just left and told Spain not to follow him.

Spain frowned slightly. _Is he avoiding me or something?_ He turned to see Italy also watching Romano's departure, though his face didn't betray if he knew what was going on. He just had a slight, content smile across his features.

"Hey, Feli, do you know where Lovino's going?" he asked, approaching the younger Italy brother.

"Ve…nope!" Italy thought about it for a few more seconds and then pointed. "But it looks like he's going to talk to that guy!"

"Hm?" Spain glanced over his shoulder in the direction Italy was pointing and saw that Romano appeared to be walking in a straight line towards a young man in a suit. He studied him carefully before turning back to Italy. "Who is he?"

Italy shrugged, unconcerned. "I dunno." Then his eyes lit up. "But he looks a lot like those scary Mafia guys usually do!"

Spain's eyebrows shot up. "What!"

Italy nodded vigorously. "Those guys are always trying to talk to my brother. Sometimes me, but mostly him. He usually gets real angry at them. He doesn't like them very much, cause he says-"

Spain cut Italy off. "But how can you tell that guy's one of them?"

"The way he's dressed. The way he stands. I don't know. Intuition?" Italy grinned at him, but suddenly found a new distraction. "Oh, look, pigeons!" He ran off, flapping his arms and shouting at the poor birds in Italian, laughing as they took to the sky, only to come down a few feet away. Spain couldn't help but smile at the sight, but he wasn't much in the mood to join him. What he'd said about Romano had been…unsettling.

_I hope Lovino is okay…_he thought, looking back towards the corner where the suspicious man had been waiting. There was no sign of either him or Romano now.

Spain was worried. He cared about Romano, and didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He wasn't sure that that guy had really been Mafia or whatever, but he had still been a pretty suspect character. He hesitated for another few seconds, but then made up his mind. He took off jogging in the direction Romano had disappeared.

"Feliciano! I'll be back in a few minutes!"

"Okay! Have fun!" The cheerful Italian waved, but only for a few seconds before he was suddenly swarmed with pigeons attacking some scrap of food he'd left in his pocket. Spain laughed briefly before turning back to the matter at hand. How to find Romano…

For now, it wasn't difficult. He just followed the street in front of him at a constant jog, not rushing or panicking, because he figured that Romano knew how to take care of himself. Spain just wanted to be there as a sort of backup. He slowed when he saw the street reached an intersection. They could have gone left, right, or continued straight, and he had no idea how to figure it out.

He sighed. He was about to give up and try '_pito, pito, gorgorito'_ when suddenly his nose caught a whiff of something familiar.

_Lovino…_

It was the same smell he'd noticed on Romano's shirt last night. Smiling, Spain took a step forward, closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. It was hard to make out through the tangle of other scents of the city, so he couldn't be _positive,_ but he thought that the smell was stronger going straight across the intersection. He took another step and another sniff and, feeling surer that he was right, continued going forwards.

About a minute or two later, Spain saw a dark, expensive looking car idling in front of a narrow alley. _That's a little suspicious._ He slowed to a casual walk as he approached the car. He peered into the alleyway off to the right and suppressed a gasp at what he saw.

Romano was held between two huge guys with a third at his back. His face didn't look particularly worried…actually, he looked more annoyed than anything. But that didn't stop Spain from doing something bold and maybe a little bit stupid.

He ran to the mouth of the alley and shouted, "Lovino!"

The three men in front stared at him, confusion on all of their faces, but none more so than Romano. Then his face contorted into that familiar, angry look Spain knew so well. "Bastard! I told you to wait in the car! Jesus Christ!"

_Is that…all he can think to say!_ Spain couldn't help but be dumbfounded at this unexpected response. His mouth fell open slightly. But his jaw dropped even further as he watched Romano suddenly transform from the meek, willing captive to an aggressive, fist-swinging attacker. He easily pushed the two gorillas that had him by the arms away from him and dispatched them with a couple of elbows and quick uppercuts to the jaw. Then, before the man standing behind him had a second to think, he too was sprawling on the ground from a kick to the midsection. The gun that had been in his hand clattered to the pavement beside him. Romano, panting slightly from his exertion, swept his hair out of his eyes and looked around to see if any of them dared to stand up. He looked, if Spain was to be perfectly honest with himself, incredibly sexy as he did so, but he quelled those thoughts for now.

A couple seconds later, he heard the tires of the car behind him suddenly squeal as the driver panicked and booked it. Romano picked the gun up and shook his head before turning his attention to someone further down the alley. It was then, for the first time, that Spain could see a fourth person, the young man that had led Romano here in the first place. His face didn't look so calm and collected anymore.

"You _are_ a fucking idiot, you know that? I'm a _country_; you thought I'd be as weak as a little mortal like you?" Romano brandished the gun in his hand. The man flinched and Romano laughed. To Spain's ears it was cold and unpleasant, not at all like Romano's usual laugh. He took a few slow, hesitant steps forward until he reached Romano.

"Lovino…" he said, reaching a hand out to touch Romano's shoulder. Romano slapped his hand away before it even reached him, annoyance flashing across his face again.

"And you!" Romano said, rounding on Spain. "I told you to wait in the car! What, you didn't believe I could deal with these assholes on my own?"

"No, that's not…sorry," he said, hanging his head. He didn't understand what Romano was so upset about, but it made him feel sick to his stomach to see him like this. Usually when he got mad, it was kind of funny. But right now, he was scary. After a few seconds, Spain peeked back up at Romano, and watched as his eyes softened slightly, looking more like their usual selves. Spain was somewhat relieved.

"Come on, let's go," Romano muttered, turning on his heel and stepping over the groaning human at his feet. "These bastards made me get my shoes dirty!" he complained as he reached the bright entrance to the street. Spain watched him, for the moment frozen in place, pondering Romano's many moods. Romano paused as he reached the street, then turned back to look at him.

"Are you coming or not?" Romano asked, actually smiling a little. "Cause I'll leave without you, you know I will."

Spain felt himself smile in return. "Yeah! Just a second!" He went to take a step, but felt a hand grab him from behind. As he turned, he became aware of the man in the suit standing directly behind him, pinning his arm painfully behind his back.

"If I can't have _him_," the man said, breathing harshly and twisting his arm as he spoke. Spain could feel his hot breath on his neck and it made his skin crawl. "Then I'll just have to settle for _you_!"

"Spain!" he heard, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. But it was too late. The man behind him had pulled back his fist and unloaded it, hitting him right in the temple.

His vision began to go black and he felt like he was sinking, but he never felt himself hit the ground. He just heard one last, "You bastard!" and then he was gone.

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><p><strong>Whoooaaa, what did I do! XD I hope this chapter was good, I really want it to be, but I'm not very knowledgeable about gangs, Mafia, criminals, anything like that, haha. Sorry. So, even though it might not be…realistic, hopefully it was at least interesting? But this isn't suddenly becoming a Mafia fic or anything, the story will be going back to a somewhat more regular pace next chapter…though I think you'll notice a more defined plot for the last few chapters. (Yup, we're almost done! : O )<strong>

_**pito, pito, gorgorito –**_** one of many Spanish versions I found of 'eenie, meenie, miney, mo'. I have no clue if they use this one in Spain, but, hey, I tried. xD**


	10. Aftermath

**Yay, here we go again! And another long chapter, too!**

**I haven't mentioned it in a while, so I'll just remind everybody that I don't, in any way, shape, or form, own Hetalia. However I dearly wish it were so (though it would be a full-fledged yaoi if I did! xD).**

**Aftermath**

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><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton<p>

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><p>Romano felt his gut lurch as he turned to see Spain being held captive by their mobster-to-be friend. He was grimacing in pain, and Romano was running towards him before he really knew what was happening. "Spain!" he shouted, but Spain had already been hit with a powerful punch, right to his temple. Romano watched as his knees started buckling and knew that he would black out.<p>

As Romano reached the two men, he simultaneously grabbed a fistful of Spain's shirt to keep him from falling to the ground and kicked their adversary in the knee, crying "You bastard!" He might have put a little more force into his kick than was necessary; he heard and felt something crunch and the man fell to the ground, clutching his leg and shouting in pain. But Romano could hardly hear him, all his attention being claimed by the man in his arms.

Romano had managed to prevent Spain from hitting the pavement, but he was totally gone. He was completely limp in Romano's grip. _Guy must have a hell of a right hook…_

He half dragged, half carried Spain out to the street, glad to get out of the dank, smelly place. No one was around, which suited Romano just fine. He'd rather people didn't get involved with his business. Gently, he lowered Spain to the sidewalk and knelt beside him.

What would probably turn out to be a brilliant bruise was already forming near Spain's right eye. Romano carefully brushed Spain's hair aside so he could see his face better. The skin looked a little puffy and reddish, though Romano knew it would deepen to a nice purple later on.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know that?" He sighed and wondered what he should do now. _What if he has a freaking concussion or something_? _Could I just take him to the hospital, or…?_ Then Spain's eyelids fluttered and a groan escaped his mouth. Romano's heart suddenly thudded in his chest, expectant and anxious. "Spain?" he said, grasping Spain's closer arm in an attempt to relieve an impulsive urge to slap him in the face to wake him up. "Are you okay?"

Spain turned his head to the side, now facing Romano's knee, but he didn't open his eyes. "Hey, Spain?" Romano asked, tilting his head so he could look at Spain's face more easily. He was a little worried. If Spain didn't wake up, then _he'd_ be held responsible. And if he _never_ woke up…well, suffice it to say, his boss would kill him. And who knows what would happen to the country of Spain if its personification was in a coma.

_And I'd have lost my only real…friend…_ he reminded himself, but he pushed that one out of his mind. It was uncomfortable on so many levels.

Spain's eyes twitched again. "Can you hear me?" Romano bit his lip and furrowed his brow, then tried, "Antonio?" The name felt unused and strange on his tongue, but it seemed to work.

Spain's eyes fluttered half open and he groaned, "Lovino?"

At the familiar sound of his own name, Romano let out a relieved breath and leaned back a little. "You gave me a freaking heart attack, letting that guy kidnap you. What the hell is wrong with you!"

Spain was squinting up in the sunlight now, still blinking and trying to get his bearings. "Ugh… ¿_qué pasó?" _He put a hand to his head, gently feeling the tender area above his right eye. Then he seemed to properly notice Romano for the first time. "Lovino! It _is _you!"

"Duh," Romano replied shortly. He helped Spain sit up and lean back against the wall beside them.

"Wow, my head hurts," Spain said, still managing to laugh weakly despite the obvious pain he was in. "Was it…that guy?"

Romano nodded, but didn't say anything else as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He chose Italy from the list of contacts and waited for him to pick up.

"Ve~ Lovino!" The standard greeting whenever Romano called him.

"Feli, come pick us up," he barked. He briefly explained where they were.

Italy sounded doubtful. "But you said I couldn't drive the car…"

"I know. But _now_ I'm saying come get us!"

"…Are you tricking me?"

"No."

"You're lying! You're just gonna yell at me!"

Romano pressed the thumb and middle finger of his left hand to his temples, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. "Just get in the car and drive here fast and I promise…" he combed his mind for something to tempt Italy with, knowing that this back and forth could keep up for half an hour if he didn't stop it. "And I promise that you can get that cat you've been wanting."

Italy gasped with delight. "Mr. Mittens! I can-"

The rest was lost on Romano, because he hung up the phone. He shook his head and mentally began preparing himself for another cat in the house when he saw the expression on Spain's face and took a double-take. Spain was smiling gently, a softer, sweeter expression than his usual bright grin. Romano was distressed to feel his heart beat a little faster and his face blush as he felt that gaze on him.

"What?" he mumbled. He quickly turned away and looked down the street, as though searching for Italy, even though it had been far too little time for him to have driven there.

"I don't know. You're just a real cutie, you know that?" Spain laughed as Romano whipped his head around to give him a death glare.

"I'm not cute!" he spat, crossing his arms and feeling that involuntary pout forming on his lips. _Why now, of all times! _"You must have hit your head pretty hard, idiot."

Spain laughed softly again, but didn't say anything else. Romano averted his gaze once more, looking for Italy in earnest now. He became aware of Spain's right shoulder just barely touching his left, and wondered if he was doing it on purpose. _Probably. _

Then, remembering something he had intended to do, Romano pulled his cell phone back out. Glad for the distraction and an excuse to not talk to Spain for a minute, he called a nearby hospital and informed them of the men in the alley a short distance away. He thought that, after being dealt with by him, they could all use some medical treatment, especially the Suit.

After describing their location once more, he turned his phone off and slid it back into his pocket. Italy still hadn't made an appearance. Romano glanced to his left and found Spain sitting with his eyes closed now, face scrunched up a little in pain. He felt a twinge of guilt deep in his stomach at the sight.

_He _should _have done what I said and waited in the car, but…he was just trying to help me. I guess the idiot really _does_ care about me, huh?_

He cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Spain? It would be okay if you wanted to…you know, stay another night at our house, and rest up a bit before you go home."

Spain's eyes opened and he looked at Romano delightedly. "Really? You'd do that?"

Romano was surprised at this reaction. "What? Of course. I'm not gonna force you to fly home in this condition…" He scowled a little. "I'm not evil, you know."

Spain laughed. "I know, I know! It just makes me…really happy. _Gracias._"

"_Di niente,_" Romano answered. He even smiled a little at Spain's surprised laughter. "Feliciano should be here soon," he was about to say as Spain's laughter died down, but he was cut off.

"Lovino," Spain started in an unusually solemn voice. "I was wondering if we could talk about something…something maybe a little more serious…"

Romano's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious. "What?"

"See, Lovino, the thing is…" Romano, watching his face closely, noticed how Spain's eyes flickered to somewhere over his shoulder, and he stopped talking. Romano followed his gaze and seconds later realized that the car speeding toward them was _his_ car. "Oh, Feli's here," Spain said, and though he smiled, he seemed a bit disappointed.

"What were you going to say?" Romano asked as the car door opened.

"Nothing. Never mind." Romano frowned, but let it go. In a second Italy was running toward them.

"Antonio! Lovino!" He waved and grinned, but then noticed that Spain wasn't looking so good. His face immediately shifted from excited to concerned. "Is something wrong? Are you okay!"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Spain said as Italy approached. Romano left the two of them discussing Spain's condition and climbed into the driver's seat. It was blissfully cool in the car and he sighed with relief.

He watched as Italy helped Spain stand and walk slowly to the car. He led him to the back seat and helped him get settled (though Spain kept protesting, telling Italy that he was fine) before he sat up front with Romano.

As Romano drove home, he glanced several times at both his brother and Spain in the back. Both of them looked distressed. Spain's eyes were closed again, and every bump they went over seemed to aggravate his headache. Meanwhile, Italy just looked depressed. His hair curl was drooping, never a good sign, and his face looked troubled. Romano knew that his little brother hated to see his friends get hurt, and he often found ways to blame himself even if he was totally uninvolved.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Romano's perpetual scowl deepened. He hated people that blamed themselves for other's problems. Why couldn't Italy just accept that, sometimes, bad things happened? Romano had. A long, long time ago.

…

It wasn't much longer before Romano had pulled up in front of his house. He and Italy stepped out of the car in practically perfect synchronization. Just one of those little, obnoxious, everyday reminders that they were maybe a little more alike than Romano ever wanted to admit. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, Italy went to open Spain's door, but Romano stopped him on an impulse. "I'll get him. Go inside and check his room, get him some water, close the curtains, and do whatever the hell else. I'll bring him upstairs."

Italy nodded, for once following orders without objection. As he ran off toward the house, Romano wondered for a second why he hadn't wanted Italy to help Spain. _Maybe I was just a little…worried about him…_ He shook his head, dissipating the thought, though it lingered at the back of his mind as he opened the car door.

Spain smiled weakly up at him. "Where'd Feli run off to?"

"I dunno. He said he had to go inside and set your room up for you," he answered gruffly. No need to tell him the whole truth. It was embarrassing. He offered Spain his hand and helped pull him to his feet when he took it. Once he was out of the car, Spain hung an arm around Romano's shoulders, which seemed a little unnecessary to Romano, but he didn't complain. Spain really wasn't looking too good, so maybe he _did_ need it.

_He's totally enjoying this though, the bastard,_ Romano thought grimly as he shut the door and they slowly walked to the house. Spain put a lot of weight on him, but the Italian just grit his teeth and kept going.

Walking up the stairs was a fun little adventure that Romano could have lived without. Italy was behind them the whole time, shouting that he'd catch them if they fell, which really just made the situation worse in Romano's opinion. But they finally, _finally,_ made it to Spain's room in one piece.

Romano lowered Spain down onto the bed and watched him as he got settled. Italy had done his job well; the curtains were closed and the room was nice and dark. The air conditioner was working perfectly, and the bedroom was very cool and pleasant.

"You gonna be okay, Antonio?" Italy asked Spain from the other side of the bed. He looked worried still, and was wringing his hands nervously.

Spain smiled. "Of course. I'm a nation, we bounce back from physical injury pretty fast, no? I'll be fine if I just rest for the day. I feel better already, really!"

Italy nodded solemnly, and, being tactful for once, said, "I'll leave you alone then. I'm making soup for dinner! I'll bring it up later!"

Romano watched his brother cross and exit the room, then picked up the icepack Italy had left on the bedside table for Spain. "Here. Ice that eye before it swells shut."

Spain took the ice and gingerly applied it to the side of his face. He hissed once at the cold on his tender skin, and then sighed as he got used to it. "Thanks."

"Well…" Romano felt distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden, alone with Spain. "I'll go, too…"

"Wait!" Spain said as he started to move away. "Stay. For a little while, at least."

Romano blinked at him. "Why?" he asked after a moment, allowing his irritation to show in his voice. It's not like Spain was sick and dying; he was right, he'd probably be better in a few hours. He didn't need someone sitting at his bedside with him!

"Because I like spending time with you!"

"That's not a good reason, dammit!" Romano turned once more to leave, but froze as he felt a pressure on his hand. Glancing down, he saw that Spain had reached out to stop him and had grabbed his hand in the process. His heart beat a little bit faster and his face reddened as he turned on Spain, furious. "What!"

"Please. Just stay for a little while. A few minutes!"

There was something horribly desperate in Spain's voice and eyes that made Romano feel guilty to even think about leaving him alone. _Jesus Christ…_

"Okay! Fine! Five minutes." He crossed the room and pulled the desk chair over next to the bed. He sunk in the chair, sulking, and crossed him arms, scowling at Spain, who smiled pleasantly back at him.

"Good." He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, a content expression on his face.

"What the hell?" Romano asked. "You're just gonna go to sleep? Then why did you need me to stay!"

Spain didn't lift his head from the pillows, but turned towards Romano and opened his eyes. He already looked tired. He grinned sleepily. "I'll fall asleep better if you're here."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Romano muttered, sinking even lower into his chair and glaring at Spain, who'd closed his eyes again. Romano tried to keep a scowl on his face for the next five minutes, even though no one was watching, but found his forehead relaxing as he watched Spain slowly drifting off to sleep. It was hard to stay mad at a nearly sleeping guy who had a bruise engulfing half of his forehead.

"Lovino," Spain murmured softly a few minutes later, just barely awake now. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Romano didn't respond, but he could feel himself blushing again. _What is it about this bastard? He always says the most uncomfortable things…_ But he found the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he watched Spain for a couple minutes more. His sleeping-self seemed to be making a ritual out of kicking his blankets off before shivering from the artificially cool air and pulling them back up. This cycle was repeated every couple of minutes as Romano watched, until he eventually took pity on him. He went to the closet and came back with a lighter blanket, which he spread over Spain the next time he pulled his own off.

"There ya go, bastard. Now you won't freeze your ass off every two minutes," he said with a hint of something akin to affection; as close as it got when it came to Romano, at least. It was a tone of voice he'd seldom heard himself use since he and Italy were little kids, and it surprised him even now as it came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat, as though something lodged there might have caused it.

Regardless, the different blanket seemed to do the trick, for Spain settled down and slept more soundly. Romano, feeling that he'd already reached his maximum on the kindness today, left the room in a hurry after that, suddenly worried that something might be terribly wrong with him.

…

Spain awoke to find himself alone in a dark room. He sat up and reached his hand out for the lamp on the table beside his bed. He clicked it on and braced himself for the wave of pain he was expecting at the bright light. But none came. To his relief, the only evidence that remained of that horrible headache he'd had earlier was just a low, dull pain that seemed to be fading away even now. He knew that even if he _had_ been hit hard enough to get a concussion, he wouldn't have one any longer. It would already be healed.

_I guess being a nation really_ does _have its perks…_ he thought as he wondered how long a regular human would have taken to recover from the blow he'd recieved. Then he noticed a tray on the chair that Romano had been sitting in earlier. There was a bowl of some kind of vegetable soup, a spoon, a napkin, and a note on the tray. Spain picked up the note first.

_We made this for you! It tastes good cold, too, so please enjoy, and feel better!_

It was signed _Feli and Lovi_, though Spain could tell that Romano had very little to do with either the soup or the note. There was also a little heart next to the brothers' names, and at the sight of it, Spain heaved a sigh. It just reminded him of what he'd been trying to tell Romano earlier.

When he'd asked Romano if they could have a serious conversation, it had been with the intentions of telling him his feelings, which seemed to be growing stronger every second he spent with the Italian. He wasn't sure what about that specific moment had prompted a sudden confession, but after the concern Romano had shown for him, he'd simply felt the need to do it.

_I just want to know if…he feels this way, too,_ Spain thought as he slowly stirred the soup in his bowl. He was feeling a lot better since his little nap, but he didn't have much of an appetite yet. Still, he took a sip of the broth and smiled. It was delicious, of course.

He put the soup aside, deciding it would be better to wait until he was hungrier and he could enjoy it more. Then he stretched his arms and back, thinking that maybe he should get up for a few more hours before he went back to bed, when he heard soft noises in the hall outside. When he looked up, he saw Romano leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, an uncharacteristically guarded expression on his face.

"Feel better?" he asked bluntly.

Spain nodded. "Much better. Thank you. Though…" he put a hand to the side of his head, where he'd been hit. The skin still felt a little puffy and sore. "I think I've still got a nice bruise here!"

Romano crossed the room, now looking slightly curious, despite himself. "Really? Let me see." He pushed some of Spain's hair out of his face, but the lighting was poor from the angle he was trying to see from. Spain could see him squinting to try and make it out.

"Here," he suggested softly, patting the bed next to him. Romano looked at it doubtfully for a second, but slowly lowered himself down to perch on the very edge of the bed. He made Spain turn his head slightly into the light, and then continued to examine him for signs of injury.

Spain could only look at the intent expression on Romano's face and listen to the blood pounding in his ears. His heart had been racing since Romano had touched his hair, and now he swallowed, hard. Romano was so close…only a few inches separated them…

"Yup, that'll be a hell of a bruise for another day or so," Romano was saying, but the words meant nothing to Spain anymore. He was just completely focused on watching Romano's face, especially his eyes. He'd never seen them so close up before, never noticed the way they were flecked with gold when the light caught them right. They were, in a word, beautiful.

Spain didn't even realize how much he was staring until Romano glanced over and caught him. However, he didn't look away or blush, but just smiled a little, waiting to see Romano's reaction. He was amused to see Romano glance at the floor as his own face became red, and then mutter something unsavory under his breath. Then he stood up, saying quickly, "Well, get some more sleep or something. I'll make Feli drive you to the airport tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Spain said, a little disappointed that Romano was leaving so soon, though not exactly surprised. But before Romano could leave the room, Spain called out to him. "Hey! Lovino!"

Romano didn't turn around, but he paused in the doorway, listening. Encouraged, Spain said, "Thanks, again, for this afternoon. I was glad that you were so…concerned about me." Again, he was curious to see Romano's response.

Romano seemed to bristle like a cat. He turned halfway around and starting shouting, "Concerned! I wasn't freakin _concerned_, I just…I thought…that bastard was…" He seemed stuck for words, and Spain, grinning at his consternation, waited to see if he would come up with something good. Romano continued spluttering, "You were all…ugh, never mind, what the hell would _you_ know, anyway!" And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him, but Spain had seen, in the light from the hallway, that even the tips of Romano's ears had been red.

_He really _is _cute, isn't he? Especially when he's trying to be mad._ Spain laughed aloud to the empty room, and reached over and picked up the bowl of soup once more. Now that he was more awake, he thought he could finish it.

When he was done, he leaned back against the headboard and sighed, though it wasn't exactly an unhappy sound. Today had been long, tiring, and a bit painful, but Spain wasn't altogether displeased with what had happened. He'd figured out a lot.

_I really like Lovino, and I think…I really _do _think he likes me back._ _I'll get him to tell me himself, someday._

* * *

><p><strong>Gah, another chapter! I posted much faster this time, huh? I think I was more excited to write after the last one. And I got so many reviews! Thank you, everybody who left one!<strong>

**¿**_**qué pasó?– What happened? (Spanish)**_

_**Gracias. – Thank you (Spanish)**_

_**Di niente – You're welcome (Italian)**_


	11. Dinner Party

**The chapters just keep getting longer and longer! xD I hope you all consider that a good thing. ; D**

**Dinner Party**

* * *

><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton<p>

* * *

><p>Spain leaned back in his office chair, trying to balance a pen on the tip of his nose, and failing. He caught the pen before it hit the floor, and gave a big sigh as he fell back into the leather seat. He was bored.<p>

It had been some three weeks since he'd left the Italian brothers' home after their adventures in Rome. True to his word, Romano had forced Italy to drive Spain to the airport. In fact, he'd practically avoided Spain that morning, and they'd never had a proper goodbye. Spain had managed to snag a hug on his way out the door, but maybe he'd surprised Romano a little with it, since he hadn't really felt the gesture being reciprocated.

He'd come home to Spain, and after getting yelled at by his boss a little for managing to get himself hurt, had been sent back to work. Which had consisted almost entirely of boring, tedious paperwork, lately. He wondered if his boss had actually been _punishing_ him the last few weeks with all the inside work he'd had. He could hardly _remember_ the last time he'd felt the daytime sun on his face, or the grass beneath his bare toes.

However, along with all the paperwork had come a lot of daydreaming and his mind had been wandering more and more as he got bored with the four walls of his office. And it had wandered more and more in one specific direction, toward a beautiful Italian home on the outskirts of the ancient city of Rome.

There was that old cliché, that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Spain had always dismissed it, thinking of it as one of those sappy young people sayings. But he'd slowly begun to understand what it meant as he found his thoughts turning to Romano every day, without fail, and with a growing desire to see him, to talk to him, to touch him, if he could manage it. He was just craving _any_ interaction with Romano, and it was manifesting itself as a low, constant ache deep in his chest. And recently he'd begun to just lie awake at night, unable to sleep because thoughts of Romano were haunting his brain, his skin crawling and burning and longing for his angry little Italian. He didn't even have the words to describe the feelings he had anymore. He wanted to _feel_ Romano, to _breathe_ him, and to _know_ him, know why he always scowled at the world, know how he felt about Spain, know what he could say to make him smile.

Spain had been with a lot of women, and a handful of men, over the years. He'd even convinced himself that he'd been in love once or twice. But he'd never felt this way before.

_So this must be love… _he thought with a small smile, his eyes closed. Then he remembered what he was _supposed_ to be doing.

He rolled his head from one side to the other, feeling his neck crack as it stretched, and leaned forward to get back to work. As he put his hands on the desk, his eyes were drawn automatically to his cell phone, which was waiting patiently on the corner of the table. He had placed it there every day since he returned to work, and every time it rang his heart leapt up to his throat in hopes that it would be Romano. It hadn't been, yet, but the phone still attracted his gaze once every few minutes. He didn't dare call Romano himself, because even Spain had to admit that he was treading dangerous waters with him. He was well aware that Romano probably wouldn't admit any feelings he had so easily. But he was willing to wait.

He hummed under his breath, pretending to busy himself with work again, but unable to truly concentrate as long as that phone sat there, silently taunting him.

…

Romano felt kind of… strange.

There wasn't all that much going on in the Italian brothers' household at the moment. Italy was off today, working for once, and Romano had decided that he deserved a personal day since he hadn't been feeling exactly himself lately. However, it didn't seem to be making him feel any better.

He'd spent most of the day so far wandering around the house, restless, jittery, and anxious about _something_, though he couldn't say what. His stomach was clenching and unclenching, churning and tying itself in knots constantly. Really, all this silence and free time in the house was what was killing him. He actually missed having busywork, because at least when his mind was distracted, the feelings subsided. Which made him feel like the whole thing might just be in his head, though he hated to think that might be the case. It made him feel like he was losing his mind or something. But still, while he wasn't sure exactly what was making him feel this way, he _was_ sure of one thing.

_This is all Spain's fault_, he thought as he looked out a window with narrowed eyes.

He wasn't sure how that Spanish bastard was doing it, but somehow he was making Romano feel ill. He knew that Spain had something to do with it, because whenever his stomach began to twist and turn uncomfortably, Spain's face, voice, laugh came to his mind. And then the feelings tended to get worse. It was awful. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before, in all his years.

"Annoying bastard…won't leave me alone," he grumbled as he fell back on a leather couch. He was perplexed as to why a guy that he actually didn't mind being around was affecting him this way. He pressed a throw pillow against his face and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep for an hour or so and just loosen up a little.

After a few minutes lying down like that, he actually began to feel relaxed enough to begin drifting off. He was half asleep, and he slipped into a dream-like state, one where it was hard to tell what was real and what was just a product of his imagination.

As he was lying there, almost sleeping but not quite, he thought he heard Italy's voice coming from somewhere far away. "Lovino! Lovino!"

Romano frowned and shifted on the couch, rolling over to lie on his side. But Italy's voice kept getting closer. "Hey, Lovino, I wanna tell you something!"

All of a sudden there came a loud _thump_ and Romano's eyes snapped open as he realized that what he'd been hearing most certainly _was_ reality.

"Oww…" Italy's voice was muffled as it issued through the front door. Romano sat up and stared at the door, which was in the room adjacent to the one he was sitting in. There came the jingle of keys and a few seconds later Italy opened the door, rubbing his nose gingerly as he stepped over the threshold. Then he saw Romano and immediately seemed to forget his pain as his face broke out into an excited grin. "Lovino! I have good news!"

"Yeah?" Romano asked skeptically, still trying to get over the fact that Italy had _run into_ the front door.

Italy nodded enthusiastically. "We're gonna have a party!"

Romano stared at his brother, who was waiting expectantly for his response. After Italy's words had sunk in, a horrified, "Wha?" was all Romano managed to say.

Italy bounced over and landed on the couch next to Romano. "Yeah! The boss says we should have a little dinner party here, at our house! Ve, it'll be fun!"

"But…why!?" Romano knew he was whining. And he didn't give a shit.

Italy shrugged and smiled. "I dunno! He said…" His eyes glazed over as he tried to remember exactly what the reason behind their little party was, because it probably hadn't registered as important in his brain. Then something seemed to click and he gasped. "Building relationships! Yeah! Making friends with other countries, isn't that nice!?"

Romano grunted noncommittally and folded his arms as Italy chattered on about who he wanted to invite and what food he wanted serve. Romano was _not_ happy.

He knew that their boss had been a little concerned after Spain had gotten hurt while he was in Italy, but did he really think it was necessary for them to invite half the world over for a stupid party? Was he afraid that, if they didn't make nice with everyone, Spain's boss might take action against them? It was ridiculous. Spain had been fine by the next day, and he'd promised that nothing would come of it. It had been that Spanish bastard's _fault_, in any case, so why was Romano now being punished!?

Thankfully, as Italy went on with the list of countries they were supposed to invite, it didn't sound like it would be too many. A small get-together could be _handled_, though Romano still didn't exactly like it too much.

Eventually, Italy tired himself out, talking for some twenty minutes straight and hardly drawing breath. Once he'd finally run out of things to say, he fell over sideways and rested his cheek on Romano's shoulder. Romano shifted uncomfortably, but Italy was persistent; and heavy.

"It's gonna be fun, right, Lovi?" he asked sleepily, nuzzling up against his big brother. Romano tried to push Italy off his arm again, but he just slid down and rested his head on his lap instead. Romano sighed.

He didn't bother to disguise his sarcasm. "Yeah, it'll be a _blast_."

…

A few days after the news was broken, and after more than a few attempts by Romano to get their boss to abandon the idea, he finally had to accept that they were going through with this party. It was going to be on Saturday, and on Wednesday, Italy wanted to start calling everybody up and inviting them.

"I'll call this half," he said cheerfully, pointing to the top of a list he'd made up. "And you can call these ones!"

Romano was sitting sideways in an armchair, his legs hooked over one arm and his back resting against the other. He was snacking on a ripe, red tomato, and he did _not_ want to be interrupted. "I will not," he said flatly, wiping his hand across his mouth. "I hate making phone calls to people I don't like."

Italy frowned, looking puzzled. "But I don't think you really like _anyone_," he pointed out.

Romano feigned surprise. "No way! Dumbass."

The insult rolled right off Italy, a result of years of practice. He considered his list for a moment and then mentioned mildly, "But you _do_ have to call Antonio." He was ginning infuriatingly.

Romano almost choked on his tomato. He pounded his chest and after a brief minute of recovery choked out, "What!? Why?" Then, after a few more seconds of thought, he added, "You _love_ Spain, do it yourself!"

"But the boss _said_ you had to!" Italy announced joyfully.

"Why!?"

"Because he says it was _your_ fault he got hurt! You have to apologize!" he laughed, a sound that grated against Romano's ears.

"It was his own damn fault!" he exclaimed. Italy shrugged and smiled in response, then walked away with his list, dialing the first number and shouting a greeting at whatever poor sap was on the other end. Romano eyed him with contempt as he left the room, swallowing the last bite of his tomato. "Fine," he muttered to the empty room after another minute of glaring at the doorway that Italy had disappeared through. "I'll do it. But I'm not apologizing."

…

Spain's head rested on the desk, his eyes half-closed. He was _tired_, for God's sake, of all this paperwork. It just drained the energy and spirit right out of him.

He was about to allow his eyes to close all the way, and maybe even take a little nap, when his phone began blasting his ringtone.

His heart still leapt excitedly every time it rang, but he'd convinced himself by now that the caller wouldn't be Romano. It was a bit depressing to think about, but it was also true. So now, instead of jumping up in excitement to answer the cellphone, he rolled his head over on the desk so it faced the small device and slowly reached his arm across to grab it.

Bringing the phone up closer to his face, he squinted to read the name of the caller. _Oh my God!_ He sat bolt upright, suddenly much less exhausted than he'd been an instant before. Adrenaline coursed through his body and his heart was pounding. He stared at the caller ID for a few more seconds, to make sure he hadn't been mistaken, and, grinning broadly, accepted the call.

"Lovino? Is it really you?"

"Yeah." Romano sounded as though he really wished that weren't the case. Spain was only slightly disheartened, but nothing could truly dampen his mood, seeing as he was finally talking to Romano again, after all these weeks! And Romano had called _him_!

"How are you?" he asked, remembering the last time Romano had called, and how he'd ended up spilling his guts. Maybe he'd get some more interesting insights into Romano's life if he asked the right questions.

"Fine," Romano answered shortly. The way he spat out the word left no question in Spain's mind about just how 'fine' he'd really been. Spain's brow furrowed, but he didn't get a chance to ask about it because Romano was already moving on. "I…well, I mean, Feliciano, he, uh, has this idea for this…" His voice trailed off, as though he were searching for the right word; or like the right word was painful to say.

"This…what?" Spain prompted, suddenly excited.

"This fucking _party_." Spain could almost hear Romano scowling across the phone, and he smiled as he imagined the familiar expression.

"A party?" he asked, trying to glean some more information before Romano lost his patience.

"Yeah," Romano said sullenly. "It's at our house, on Saturday. And it's like a damn dinner party, too."

"Oh? Sounds like fun!" Spain thought he knew where this was going, but he didn't like to make assumptions. Still, he could feel the hope building in his stomach.

"You should…" Romano was hesitating again, as though the words were hard to say. Spain heard him cough or clear his throat before he continued in a harder, firmer voice. "You have to come. Six o'clock. Dress nice." He kept his sentences short and his tone sounded demanding, as though he were trying to compensate for the fact that he was inviting Spain. But Spain couldn't care less about that.

_I was right!_ He wanted to do a little happy dance right then and there, but he managed to say, "Yeah! See you then!"

Romano hung up without much in way of parting beyond a grunt, but Spain was too excited to really care. He threw his phone back down onto the desk and spun around in his office chair a few times, feeling a huge, stupid grin light up his face.

He was going to get to see Romano again. Soon!

…

"Hi! So glad you could come!" Italy said for about the billionth (or maybe tenth) time that night. Romano never thought he could hate six simple words with such vehemence. He just nodded resentfully at their latest guest from the corner, where he was trying to hide. Austria nodded back at him unperturbed, remaining dignified, as always. Romano averted his gaze, glaring at the floor and crossing his arms.

_He doesn't have to look so damn proud, considering he's half an hour late,_ Romano thought sourly. Italy directed Austria to the sitting room, where various other countries were milling around already, talking and sipping their drinks, having a little _aperitivo _before the meal.

Well, at least almost all of the guests had arrived by now. They were only waiting on two or three, including one in particular that kept returning to Romano's mind. Spain had yet to show up. Romano's stomach clenched kind of painfully every time he thought about him, but at the same time, there was a weird kind of anticipation building up, too.

_Is this what friendship is like?_ he wondered vaguely. Though he never used such sentimental terms aloud, he _had_ finally accepted in his mind that he considered Spain a friend. So maybe he was just kind of looking forward to seeing him again. It was normal to want to see your friends…right? And it had been awhile, after all…

Still, what Romano really wanted was to get this whole ordeal over with. He was never a huge fan of parties with his fellow nations, but dinner parties were just so stiff and boring and were the worst by far.

After Italy got Austria settled in the other room, he came bounding back to the front door, stopping in front of Romano and sighing happily. "It's almost time for dinner! This is really fun!"

Romano didn't see what was so fun about opening the door and talking to people he disliked, so he didn't answer his little brother. Thankfully, the doorbell rang again only a few seconds later, causing Italy to run off again.

"Hi! So glad-" Italy gasped, interrupting his set phrase. "Ludwig!" Romano looked up to see a brunette blur tackling the tall German standing in their doorway. Germany looked a little flustered, and Romano wasn't sure if it was because of Italy attacking him, or something else. Though Romano thought he would be used to the tackle-hugs by now. "I missed you!" Italy cried, jumping up to kiss him on the cheek.

Germany's blush deepened. "I missed you too," he mumbled, and Romano didn't miss as his cold blue eyes flickered over to his corner. Romano glared back with daggers in his stare, disapproval written all over his face. Lately, Italy had been going to visit Germany a lot, so Romano hadn't seen _him_ in more than a month. It wasn't exactly a happy reunion.

Seeming to feel the tension in the air, Germany cleared his throat and said a little more loudly, talking to both brothers now, "I'm sorry that I'm late. The traffic…" He shook his head briefly and continued, "I hope it hasn't inconvenienced you, or delayed dinner." His eyes showed how distressed he was, as though half an hour was an unforgivable grievance. Romano realized that that's why he'd looked so concerned when he'd first come in. He was worried about being _late_. Romano rolled his eyes. _No one shows up to these things on time, if they can help it. That potato-lover's the only one who cares._

"No, no, you're not even the last one here!" Italy yelped at once. He loosely hooked his arm through Germany's and pulled him towards the sitting room, towards the other people. Romano watched them go, not at all sorry to not have to deal with them anymore.

However, there was still at least one guest left that had to be greeted, so he waited for Italy to come back. After a few minutes, he was still standing alone in the front hall, tapping his foot in irritation. _Did that little bastard abandon me for his boyfriend? Figures._

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Romano stared at the front door as though hoping it would just answer itself, and then called over his shoulder, "Feli! The door! Get the damn door!"

No bright, cheerful Italian came running down the hall to his rescue, so Romano turned resignedly to the door. He tried to remember who hadn't shown up yet, but still only one name and face came to mind. He set his teeth and pulled open the door, a strange tugging sensation filling his whole stomach and chest.

"Lovino!" Spain shouted when he saw his face.

"Spain," Romano replied without enthusiasm. Spain entered the house and pulled Romano into a tight hug. Romano didn't return the embrace, though he felt his face growing hot for some reason he could hardly fathom.

"I've told you, call me Antonio!" Spain said as he pulled back.

"And I've told _you_, I won't," Romano reminded him as he squirmed out of his surprisingly strong grasp.

"But you already have, once!" Spain said with a wink before turning and showing himself into the room where all the noise was coming from.

At first, Romano wasn't sure what he meant, but he suddenly flashbacked to a hot sidewalk in Rome, Spain lying unconscious on the ground, and the name Antonio escaping his lips as he tried to wake him up. Romano couldn't believe Spain had even heard it, let alone remembered it. _Shit_!

"Hey, Spain!" he shouted, hurrying to catch up with Spain as he disappeared through the doorway. He had to explain that he'd only called him that to wake him up, and for _no _other reason! But all of a sudden Romano slammed into the Spaniard's back because, quite strangely, he'd stopped moving before he'd entered the room. "What the hell!?" he asked as he peeled himself off of Spain's back.

Spain turned around to look at him. "Let's go in together," he said in a serious voice, and before Romano could say or do anything, Spain had grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room.

Romano stumbled through the doorway after Spain. There was a slight pause in the conversations of nearby nations, but it only lasted a few seconds. No one else seemed to notice much, to Romano's relief. He was embarrassed and uncomfortable. He tried to pull his hand out of Spain's grip, but found he was unable to free himself. "Bastard, let go of me!" he whispered heatedly, trying not to draw any more attention to himself.

Spain laughed gently, but after a few seconds released Romano's hand. "Okay, you win," he said with a sigh that sounded strangely sad, considering the grin still plastered on his face.

Romano rubbed his hand and glared at Spain out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't run off. Spain was the only one at this party that he was halfway willing to spend time with. He got drinks for both of them, and then just kind of hung around the other, awkwardly, as Spain greeted his friends. After they had made the rounds, they kind of sank into the background, to Romano's relief. He kind of listened as Spain began to chat cheerfully about how he'd been since they'd last seen each other, but spent most of his time looking around the room, making various internal complaints about every nation he saw.

He was just getting to his long, _long_, list about Germany when Italy announced to the entire room that it was time to move to the dining hall.

Dining hall was kind of a pretentious term, in Romano's opinion, but there was no better word for one of the least-used rooms in his house. It was saved for special occasions such as this, and Romano was having trouble remembering the last time it had been used.

As the group entered the hall, more than a few pairs of eyebrows raised. It _was_ rather impressive, Romano had to admit. Not only was it a large room, it was also tall. Floor to ceiling windows were spaced along one long wall, showcasing an undeniably incredible view of the nearby city of Rome. Chandeliers and various pieces of fine art were dotted throughout the room, and a long table took up the center, with places set for fifteen, currently. One seat at the head, seven on either side, only going about halfway down the length of the enormous table.

Romano took his place at the table. Since it was his house, Italy had asked him to sit at the head of the table, but Romano had refused. He'd wanted to sit in the exact opposite direction, towards the other end, where there would hopefully be less people. So he sat in the last chair in one of the rows of seven, where Italy was now standing, making sure everybody got seated before he sat down himself.

Spain sat on Romano's right, which was fine with him. He would serve as a buffer to all those other annoying people. Directly across from him was Lichtenstein, and to her left was Switzerland. This was also just fine, seeing as Switzerland spent most of the time glaring at people who looked too closely at his sister. He wasn't exactly chatty, so Romano was pretty satisfied with the seating arrangements.

Dinner got underway. Romano managed to get through the _antipasto_ without saying a word. He nodded every now and then as Spain spoke to him, but he wasn't listening particularly closely. _I can make it through this…_ he kept thinking, but he kept clenching his teeth harder and harder.

The most annoying part was that everyone around him seemed to be _enjoying_ this. He felt so uncomfortable here, with all these people around him making small talk and eating and laughing. Their enjoyment of such pointless activities disgusted Romano.

Finally, the main course was coming, a pasta dish, of course. Just as it was being served, America, who was sitting near the middle of the side opposite Romano, claimed the attention of all present by loudly announcing that he had a story to tell, and then commencing with it immediately. As he went on with his tale, which was all about some great act of heroism on his part, most of the side conversations stopped and almost everyone listened attentively, America's voice growing in strength and confidence every second. It wasn't a bad story, really, and it was captivating to those who were paying attention.

Yes, and _almost_ everyone was listening.

Romano was too busy enjoying the admittedly delicious food before him, savoring the exquisitely fresh sauce. Of course, the prevalent flavor of tomato immediately turned his mind to Spain, which for some reason made him blush. _What the hell_, he wondered, rubbing at his chest where his heart seemed to be beating unnaturally quickly.

After a moment, just as he began to feel more normal, he suddenly felt a hand placed on his knee under the table and he physically jumped and stiffened. "What!?" he hissed at Spain, who smiled at him.

"Nothing," he said mildly, but his hand squeezed Romano's knee.

"Well then move your hand!" Romano said, a little louder than before, feeling the heat rise to his face once again. His chest felt extremely tight and he just wanted Spain to keep his hands to himself.

Spain pouted. "Aw, why can't I keep it there?"

"Why the hell would you _want_ to!?"

Now Romano noticed that _Spain_ was blushing too. He looked more flustered and bashful than Romano ever remembered seeing him. Even when he was saying entirely embarrassing things, usually he could find a way to laugh about it and seem completely nonchalant. So did this uncharacteristic blush mean that he was being serious? "Because…" Spain answered after a moment, in a faltering voice. Then he said more clearly, and loudly, "Because I really like you!"

Romano stared at him, open-mouthed. Eventually he managed to stammer out, "W-what does _that_ mean?"

Spain swallowed, looking nervously down at his plate, but then he turned his face upwards to meet Romano's eyes. Staring at him with determination shining in those big, green, eyes, he said slowly, carefully, "Lovino…I love you."

* * *

><p><strong>AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! XD How will Romano react?! You'll just have to wait to see~ By the way, there's only gonna be one or two more chapters after this one! : O And on a side note, I give my thanks to theticktalks, who always reads my stuff before I post and helps me out a lot.<strong>

_**aperitivo – **_**an Italian tradition, drinks served before the meal to stimulate the appetite.**

_**antipasto**_** – I'm sure most of you know this one, but basically, an Italian appetizer, with meats, cheeses, maybe some vegetables, etc., etc. Varies endlessly, haha.**

**Guest list: Italy, Romano, Spain, Germany, Austria, America, England, China, Japan, Russia, Canada, Greece, France, Switzerland, Lichtenstein (don't ask me how I came up with this list, I just chose some people I thought were convenient, haha)**


	12. All's Well that Ends Well

**Another much too long wait for another long chapter…sorry…but this is the LAST ONE, so…gah, I can't even believe it! Please enjoy the last chapter! I hope you all find the ending satisfactory…**

**WARNING: there is an increase in the use of the f-word in this chapter. xD It couldn't be helped.**

**All's Well that Ends Well...**

* * *

><p>"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton<p>

* * *

><p>"Lovino…I love you."<p>

Romano could hear the words, could see Spain still staring at him with a mixture of fear and resolve, could feel the hand on his knee; but he could _not_ accept it. He didn't think his heart was beating anymore, and his brain refused to think about what all of these things could mean. Instead, all he could do was sit there in the silence that followed Spain's announcement, his mouth hanging slightly open.

_Silence_?

His eyes flicked away from the Spaniard's for a moment to find the rest of the dinner party watching them, their own faces displaying varying degrees of shock. America looked as though he'd been mid-sentence when he'd stopped telling his story, his hands still raised in the air halfway through a gesture. Everybody had heard, and everybody was waiting for a response. Italy was the only one who didn't seem surprised; he was smiling delightedly.

The brief seconds it took for Romano to scan the table and to gauge the others' reactions was enough time for his brain to finally snap back to reality, to what Spain had just said to him.

He immediately turned his gaze back on Spain, who was still waiting for him. Romano opened his mouth and could almost hear the subtle intake of breath by everyone in the room.

"What the _fuck!?_"

Spain visibly flinched, and his face instantly fell. He withdrew his hand as Romano stood up. He banged his hand down heavily on the table; the silverware clattered satisfactorily and he shouted this time. "Who the fuck do you think you _are_? Until three months ago, I'd never even _talked _to you. You don't know _anything_ about me! How dare you say that!? I can't even – I – " He found his voice was wavering, and he thought that if he tried to keep this up, he might break down and do or say something embarrassing. In_ front _of everyone. So he chose instead to storm angrily out of the room, trying to keep his dignity as he went, but finding it hard to not start running. He truly appreciated for the first time just how _large_ this room was.

Thankfully, as soon as he was out of sight of all those silent, staring faces, he could tear off down the hallway and just run. He didn't pay attention to where he was going, he just turned into the first doorway he saw as soon as he judged himself far enough away. He slammed the door behind him as he ran in, and as his fingers scrabbled against the doorknob, searching for a lock, he discovered that he'd chosen a room that, unfortunately, didn't _have_ one. But there was no way he was going back out there, so he'd have to make do.

He was in one of the several libraries dotted around the house. It was nothing special, just a room with book-laden shelves lining the wall, a desk, a fireplace, and a leather armchair. He didn't come in here too often; when he did, it was usually just to escape from Italy for a few minutes; so hopefully no one would think to look for him here. _If_ they were looking, that is.

He considered his surroundings for a brief moment, broodingly. Then he rolled his eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted, giving the desk a good kick. A decision he immediately regretted, but still, it felt good to do _something_ to relieve the pent up…emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure exactly what they were, but they sure as hell were violent. He stood near the doorway for a minute, hearing his heart beating in his ears and trying in vain to figure out what it all _meant_.

"Dammit," he muttered eventually, as he collapsed into the armchair. "Just God dammit!"

…

The second that Romano opened his mouth to respond to his sudden confession, Spain knew that he had made a mistake. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"What the _fuck!?_" Romano slammed his hand down on the table. "Who the fuck do you think you _are_? Until three months ago, I'd never even _talked _to you. You don't know _anything_ about me! How dare you say that!? I can't even – I – " He seemed to find it hard to go on, and with a slight shake of his head, he turned and strode purposefully out of the room, though Spain thought he was looking a little desperate as he reached the door.

"Shit," Spain swore under his breath as the door shut behind Romano. He had just done the stupidest thing in recent memory. He really hadn't meant for it to come out so suddenly like that, but his emotions had just taken control and he hadn't taken to the time to consider…well, anything, really. _I am so _stupid _sometimes!_

He was on his feet and halfway across the room, picking up speed, when he heard his name coming from behind him. "Spain! Wait!" He paused and looked over his shoulder to see Germany approaching, Italy trailing a pace or two behind him and looking a little confused. The rest of the party was now discussing the event in hushed voices, their food cooling and lying totally forgotten on their plates.

Spain couldn't help but feel a little impatient at being held up by Germany. "Look, I need to-"

"No, you don't," Germany interrupted firmly, placing a hand on Spain's shoulder. He forced Spain, who was still focused on the door that Romano had exited through, to turn and look him right in the eye. "You need to leave him alone for a little while. I think you surprised him more than anything, and he needs some time to sort everything out."

"But I…" Spain gulped past a lump forming in his throat. "I didn't _mean_ to…" His eyes were suddenly burning with tears that were longing to be shed. But not here. He blinked them back and took a deep breath to clear his eyes and throat.

"I know," Germany replied softly. "But it's best to let him think things through on his own."

Spain understood what Germany was saying, but he just couldn't accept it. He shook his head after a few seconds' consideration. "Germany, I appreciate the advice, but you just don't understand. I need to talk to him."

Germany gave him an ironic little half-smile. "Listen, I probably understand better than anyone here. I…well, I had basically the same reaction the first time Feliciano told me he loved me." He glanced to his side, where Italy was clinging to his arm. Italy nodded and smiled at Spain.

"He's right! Don't worry, Lovino will calm down eventually."

Spain hesitated for a few more seconds, looking between both of their faces. He still didn't like it; he wanted to go and talk to Romano _now_, to explain, to apologize, if he had to. He didn't like this whole waiting thing. But these two were so sure of themselves, and he was outnumbered. "Okay…" he muttered eventually, eyes downcast.

Germany nodded approvingly, and then jerked his head in the direction of the table. "Let's go back and eat," he suggested, already turning and beginning to walk, Italy following obediently, as usual.

"Actually," Spain said, causing Germany and Italy to stop and look back. "I kind of wanted… to be by myself for a while. I don't think I could sit with them after what just happened."

Italy smiled sympathetically. "Ve, of course! Do you know how to get to the room you used last time from here? You can go rest there, if you want!"

"Yes. Thank you," Spain said in relief. Even from here he could feel the eyes of the other nations constantly following his every move, and could almost sense them straining their ears as they tried to listen in. There was no way he could face them right now.

He walked briskly out of the room and into the hall, ignoring the increase in whispers that followed him across the floor. His chest felt a little tight as he couldn't help but wonder where Romano was right now. Would he have gone to his own bedroom? Perhaps a favorite sitting room? Was he the type that would want to go out into the garden? Spain doubted it, but his eyes still strained, looking, every time he passed a window. But he didn't go searching for him, because he knew that, in the end, Germany was right; he definitely needed a little time alone.

…

Romano wondered, yet again, if he should go somewhere else besides this little library. His own room was one option. Hopping in a car and driving far, far away was also tempting. But he still didn't leave his little sanctuary, because there was always that possibility that he'd run into… _that person_, as he was currently calling Spain in his head, in the hall as he made his way through his house.

So he just kept sitting, slumped far down, in the big leather armchair, watching as the sun finally sank below the horizon, throwing the room into darkness.

_Lovino…I love you._

Romano squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that sentence would stop repeating itself in his head. Every time he heard it, his stomach sort of fluttered and he felt kind of fuzzy inside. He coughed a couple times to try and relieve the feeling, but in vain. He just continued to feel strange, to feel almost… nervous?

_What could I possibly be nervous about? I was wrong about him, that's all. He's just another idiot in my life. _He turned his face against the leather of the chair, inhaling the comforting smell and trying to relax. _I need to clear my mind._

He took another breath and really did try to stop thinking about _that person_ and just allowed his mind to wander, to think about anything else. But eventually a weird thought popped into his head, totally unsupervised.

_When was the last time someone said that they loved me_?

It's not like it had never happened before. A couple of the foolish, mortal girls that he'd been with over the years had said it to him, but he'd never returned the sentiment. Then again, he'd also never had a reaction like _this_ before. So what was this feeling, exactly?

He was trying really hard to be angry. He felt he had every _right_ to be angry, he'd been so embarrassed and surprised and confused. But now he just felt sort of empty and unsure. And almost… guilty. _What's even going on in my life anymore_? he wondered vaguely, miserably, as the room darkened around him.

…

_…What the hell am I doing here?_ Romano wondered for the ten millionth time. He was standing in front of the door to the room Spain had previously used, staring down the wood grain like he held a personal grudge against it. He'd already been there for nearly a quarter of an hour, raising his hand to knock and then lowering it once or twice a minute.

He'd stayed in the little library for another half hour. He'd again tried to clear his mind, but certain thoughts that had wormed their way into his head had left him unsettled. He'd wandered around the house for a while and eventually ended up here. When he'd seen the door closed and light peeking out of the crack on the bottom, he'd figured that Spain was inside. So he'd stayed, deliberating and waiting. But he still didn't know exactly why.

_Am I here to… apologize or something?_ he wondered uncomfortably. He knew that was what would be expected of him, but that didn't feel like the only reason, either. And he was beginning to get frustrated with himself. _I don't know what I want!_ _And it's all that bastard's fault! It's all _his _fault that I feel so…_

Exactly how he was going to describe those feelings he never found out, because at that moment the door that was only inches in front of his nose swung open to reveal Spain's surprised face.

"Lovino," he breathed, and Romano watched as his face slowly turned red. He looked like a mess. His eyes were puffy and a little red; obviously he had been crying. He didn't look at all like his usual cheerful self. Romano felt a pang of guilt that surprised him. Since when had he cared about others' tears? "Oh. I'm sorry you saw me like this," Spain continued, blinking rapidly and avoiding Romano's eye. Was he going to cry again?

"No, I'm sorry," Romano said bluntly. He wasn't used to apologizing, and he didn't really like it, but he had to say _something_.

"It's not your fault, Lovino, you don't have to apologize," Spain replied softly.

"Yes, I do. I was… rude and… I don't know, just accept my apology!" The latter part of Romano's sentence came out a little more forcefully than he intended, but he didn't know any other way to express himself.

Spain looked a little surprised, but after a few seconds, he nodded, and a ghost of his usual smile lit up his face. Romano's stomach clenched at the sight, and it felt squirmy again, sort of fluttery. It made him feel lightheaded, reckless. He felt like he wanted to do something, something dangerous, all of a sudden. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

_What… is going on?_

…

Spain couldn't believe that Romano was here, right in front of him, looking just as confused as he felt. Seeing him was surprisingly painful. Here he was, the man that had haunted Spain's thoughts for the last few weeks, but he was unattainable as of right now. Spain was too afraid to reach out and touch him, though he longed to do so.

They had fallen into an awkward silence after Romano made a gruff apology which Spain had been glad to hear, but now he didn't know what to say. Really, Spain was just waiting for the moment when Romano would turn around and make some excuse to leave again. From all he knew about Romano, it would be coming soon, and then he would be left alone with his thoughts once again, nothing having changed, nothing having been explained.

But what was there to explain?

He could apologize for embarrassing both of them in public, and for looking like a mess because he'd been crying, but he would _never_ apologize for how he felt about Romano. Even if his feelings were never returned and it was all because of his actions, he would still never say sorry for it. So right now he would just have to wait for Romano's decision.

But to his surprise, Romano didn't make any excuses and he didn't turn and walk away, either. He actually looked a little confused, unsure of himself. "Spain…" he started, but shook his head didn't finish the sentence. Spain just waited and watched, curious. Eventually Romano let out an exasperated sigh and brushed past Spain, through the door behind him, into his room.

"Lovino? Are you okay?" Spain asked as he followed Romano back into the room he'd just come from.

Romano was pacing back and forth, looking extremely agitated. "No! I'm not okay!"

"Why? What's wrong?"

Romano stopped walking. "I don't know." He looked up at Spain and continued, almost shouting. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with me! I feel like I'm going insane! And it's… it's you! I want to be with you, and then I hate you, and you're just….urgh!" He buried his face in his hands and looked so lost and desperate, Spain's chest ached at the sight. _What is he trying to say? Is he trying to tell me that he doesn't know how he feels, or…?_

"It's okay," he said quietly, approaching the Italian and slipping his arms around his shoulders. Romano made a half-hearted attempt to shrug him off, but Spain held on. Romano sighed and then asked,

"Why are you so fucking nice to an asshole like me? Why won't you leave me alone like everybody else does?"

"Because you're my friend, I care about you, I…" Spain bit his lip before he added 'I love you'. He thought it might be just a little too awkward to remind Romano about that whole thing, especially since he felt like he was making progress towards understanding the real Romano a little better. But having him here in his arms without truly _having _him was almost unbearable.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Romano whispered. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't know… anything. And I hate it. I'm tired of being like this. I need…" He wouldn't finish the sentence; or maybe he couldn't.

Spain gulped. This was as close to a confession or a cry for help as he'd ever heard from Romano. What should he do? Would it be okay for him to… well, he didn't want to _take advantage_ of Romano in any way, but he felt as though Romano had come here to see him for a reason. And he thought he knew what that reason was, even if Romano didn't.

So it was time to take a risk. This would be his only chance to find out how Romano really felt.

"Lovino, would it be okay if… if I kissed you?"

…

"Lovino, would it be okay if… if I kissed you?" Spain whispered.

Romano felt as though a dart had shot through his veins at those words. It was hard to describe the tingly, paralyzing feeling in his limbs any other way. He couldn't even answer Spain. A voice in his head was screaming, telling him to say no, to run away and take the easy way out, but he couldn't do it. Spain seemed to take his silence as a yes.

His lips touched Romano's tentatively, waiting for a reaction. Romano, for his part, still didn't either return the kiss or turn away, but allowed Spain to hold him gently, allowed the contact as he debated what he should do. There was a furious battle being raged in his mind, but he was no closer to a solution.

Why was he letting Spain do this? This was _Spain_; this was the man whose smile made him agitated, who was constantly pushing him out of his comfort zone. He should be hating this. He _wanted_ to hate this. But he didn't. Still, did that make it right to kiss him back? Was this the dangerous, reckless thing he'd suddenly begun craving?

Finally, deciding that he probably couldn't think his best with another man's lips all over his own, he gave up arguing with himself. It was time to just pick one or the other. He decided in the end to just do what instinct, what that reckless, jittery feeling, dictated. He gave in and returned Spain's kiss. Passionately. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right and be a little aggressive.

He felt Spain eagerly respond, not only with his lips and tongue, but his whole body. His fingers tangled in the hair at the back of Romano's head, his hips shifted closer to Romano's, until they were just barely touching his. That was when Romano realized that this would probably turn into a bit more than just a kiss. Maybe even a lot more.

_Jesus, he's really getting into this…_ he couldn't help but observe as he broke for air and Spain turned his attention to his neck, jaw, and a tiny piece of exposed collarbone. _Yeah, he's _really _getting into this_, he thought as Spain forced him to take a step back, until he pressed against the wall behind him. And he almost managed to not have the thought, _but so am I_.

They were both breathing a little hard by now, and Romano's heart was racing almost painfully. He squeezed his eyes shut as Spain continued to have his way. Romano felt a hand fumbling with the top buttons on his shirt, managing to open it halfway down his torso before slipping a hand in and laying it against his chest. _I thought_ I _was going to be the aggressive one…well I can't let him have _all _the fun._

"Spain," he murmured, cupping the Spaniard's chin and tilting his face up for another kiss on the lips. After another minute or so, Spain broke the contact again, though their noses were still close enough to touch occasionally as he whispered breathlessly,

"Call me Antonio."

Romano blushed and hesitated for a few seconds, enough time for Spain to resume the attack on his neck, before letting go of his pride and deciding to try it. At this point, why not? But it was harder than he thought it would be to form the word. After several attempts, he eventually managed to stammer, "A-Antonio…" To his eternal embarrassment, the name came out sounding more like a moan than anything else. But he could hardly help all the awful, awkward little noises that were now issuing involuntarily from his mouth.

Romano was getting a little more excited by this than he would care to admit. If he was going to be perfectly honest (which he rarely was) he was actually _enjoying_ it. But… he wanted more. A familiar and unmistakable sensation was building down in his groin area. _Christ, I'm one horny motherfucker_.

He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd had sex, but it had definitely been too long ago. Would it be wrong to do it with Spain now? They'd already come this far… and by God, he wanted it. Hell, he _needed_ it at this point. _But if we're going to do it, it's going to be on _my _terms_, he thought determinedly.

He gripped Spain's upper arms and, step by step, forced him back towards the bed, pushing him down a little roughly when they finally got there. Spain lay panting, watching as Romano undid the last couple buttons on his shirt and pulled it off.

"Lovino…?" he asked as Romano climbed into the bed and positioned himself over his prostrate body.

"We're gonna fucking do this, you bastard," he growled, a little embarrassed, but extremely turned on by the situation.

After a few seconds, Spain smiled at him, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he snaked his arms around Romano's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Romano obliged, but at the same time he started tugging on Spain's shirt, revealing flawless, tanned skin. It was then, when he only had one arm planted firmly on the bedspread, that Spain made his move.

One second, Romano was busy with Spain's shirt, working to expose his finely toned chest (it's not like he'd never noticed, all those times at the beach or pool, he'd just never had reason to care before) and the next thing he knew he was on his back, arms pinned, and Spain was straddling him.

"What the hell…"

"If we're gonna do it, it's going to be _my_ way," Spain said with a look that struck Romano as both erotic and terrifying. But from the position Romano was in, mostly terrifying.

_Aw, shit… what did I get myself into…_

...

Spain opened his eyes to look at the man whose torso he encircled in his arms. Romano was sitting up almost upright, leaning against the headboard with a thoughtful, faraway expression on his face. He wasn't looking at Spain, didn't even seem to notice that he was being watched. Spain liked this opportunity. _This is the real Lovino_, he thought. _The one that's not acting for anyone. This is the one I love._

After studying him for another minute or two, Spain broke the silence. "Lovino, _te quiero_," he murmured, pressing his lips against the closest available piece of Romano's skin.

Romano, awakened from his reverie, considered Spain for a moment before he rolled his eyes. "Just 'cause we had sex doesn't mean you have to keep saying things like that," he said. Spain lost his grip on Romano as he swung his legs off the bed and slowly stood up. He looked a little uncomfortable as he straightened, and the first couple steps he took looked awkward.

_He's not used to being on the bottom_, Spain thought, resisting the urge to giggle as Romano struggled to walk normally. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked aloud, "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed, what the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Romano growled in response as he gingerly stepped into his shorts.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"My room." He picked up a shirt before deciding it was Spain's and tossing it on the bed.

"You're not going to stay?" Spain asked, a bit of his disappointment working its way into his voice.

"No."

"Oh…" Spain watched as Romano finished putting his shirt back on before asking tentatively, "Would it be okay if I stayed here for a couple of days?"

"Do whatever you want," Romano answered with a careless shrug. Spain's face broke out into a true grin. _That's a yes._

"And… would it be okay if I visited _your_ room tomorrow night?" he asked with a little more confidence and just the right amount of suggestion.

Romano turned his face away from Spain before muttering, "Like I said, do whatever the hell you want." But Spain had seen the blush spreading across his cheeks and his smile widened as Romano turned abruptly and exited the room without another word.

_I think it's just going to be that kind of relationship, but I know what he means_, Spain thought amusedly as he lay back in bed. Even though he knew Romano would never be affectionate, he was all right with it. He was in love, and he was absolutely happy.

…

Romano walked back to his room as quickly as he could in his state, as though he could escape what had just happened if he only ran away fast enough. _I can't fucking believe I just… God… and with Antonio! _He paused at that thought and quickly tried to revise it. _Spain! I meant Spain! Ugh, he's even affecting my mind now…_

He shook his head, and continued down the hall, but he made his way at a slightly slower pace, taking more time to consider his thoughts. _I can't believe it… but…_

But… what? But he'd enjoyed it. But he'd found it hard to leave. But he was already thinking about tomorrow night with his heart pounding.

_This doesn't mean that I… _like_ him, does it_?

It was a scary thought. Romano didn't think he'd ever _liked_ someone before. He'd been trying to put it off as merely a physical attraction since the thought had originally occurred to him, but he'd had sex with plenty of people before, and he'd never felt like this. Still, just considering it made him nervous and anxious again. Though, somehow, it was a different sort of feeling than it had been before. Yes, something was definitely different. It was like… he felt fuller. Like some deep craving had finally been satisfied.

So yes, he was scared about these new feelings, this new situation. Terrified, even. But deeper than that, he welcomed this… this sensation, this unnamed feeling (it couldn't possibly be _love_, that would be ridiculous, but it was _something _all right). He just felt as though he'd been waiting for this for a long time; his entire life, even; and he was finally _content_.

Yes, _that's _what it was. He couldn't quite place it exactly, but because of Spain, for the first time in a long time, he was actually… happy.

* * *

><p><strong>I want to thank everyone who has read this little story of mine, and a HUGE thanks to everyone who left a review, favorited it, or added it to their alert list. You guys have been… amazingly supportive, even when I didn't necessarily deserve it. xD THANK YOU, SO MUCH! I've had so much fun writing this, I hope you had fun reading it!<strong>

**(And I pray nobody was disappointed at all with the ending. )**

**_te quiero – _****I love you (Spanish)**

**And if anyone noticed that I used Shakespeare references for two separate chapter titles and wondered why that was, well...there wasn't any particular reason. xD**


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